


The Art of Being Troubled

by infinitify



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: F/M, clem is just as broken as you are, evil foster mom trope CHECK, loving foster father lee CHECK, slowburn, stay tuned bc things get real corny and cute, we got an angsty clem boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18855298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitify/pseuds/infinitify
Summary: Jaded and abrasive Clementine is sent to Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth after her past tragedies and self-sabotaging escapades accumulate a distasteful attitude. Although hesitant, Lee takes the advice of his not-so-nice wife and insists his adoptive daughter take the school and it’s behavioral benefits head on. Forced to leave her beloved father and adoptive brother AJ behind, Clementine is thrust into a world full of outlandish personalities and intense plights where she tries her best to navigate through the turmoil of being considered a “troubled youth.” Although opening up and engaging with peers is a struggle at first, it isn’t long until a group of strangely bizarre kids break down Clementine’s resistance and accept her into their chaotic and impulsive world inside those concrete walls.





	1. biting the hand that feeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clementine finds herself in a heated conversation with foster father Lee about being boarding school bound. Life is essentially over and there’s not much she can do about it.

**06 APRIL 2003**

  You know that pulsating rush of adrenaline you get when you do something you’re not supposed to be doing? It’s like you’ve suddenly got arrhythmia. Your pores start oozing sweat, you start to get a little hot, and your clothes stick to your skin. You become hyperaware of every little thing going on around you and you thrive on that feeling for as long as your body can produce it. That’s adrenaline. And  _that’s_  how Clementine felt.

  Her fingers slid into the gap between her bedroom window and the windowsill. She pulled it up as quietly as she could before she manoeuvred her body to climb in. Sneaking out may have been the hard part, but with Lee’s light sleeping, sneaking back in was infinitely harder.

  When it came to goodbyes, Clementine couldn’t say she was much of a fan. You’d be lucky to even get a hello out of her in the first place. As expected throughout the vastity of life, finding a connection with someone is one of the biggest struggles you face. When you get to school, you soon realize that no one gives two shits about what you have to say or what goes on in your head. So you keep your mouth shut. But God  _forbid_  you keep your mouth shut in a place where mindless kids love to show you just how loud they are. No one talks to you, but when they do, they don’t stop. People either use you as their journal or their punching bag – an object of their own desires. Billy knocks your books out of your hands and calls you a weirdo because you won’t look anyone in the eye. Samantha vents about how irrational her mom is while you’re trying to study in homeroom. Just sitting there makes you realize that ultimately, no one knew what the hell they were talking about, or  _why_. People only focused on what was happening to them, not to the other humans around them. What they lacked to understand was that everyone had just as complex mental function as them. Instead, they considered you a background character to their rich lives. So, Clementine did the one thing she knew how to do from the very beginning – she stuck to her guns and she shut the world out. Trying to make friends and being walked all over was a thing of the past, she became the total antithesis of what a model human being was. Whether you’re behaving how you want to behave or you’re conforming to the social hierarchy like a mindless zombie, one ever-damning trait will always be present: people’s perception of you. Clementine realized that people liked to paint their own picture of her, whether she was minding her business or not. So, what was the point in trying to be likeable if you weren’t going to be liked anyway? Disappoint people, because that’s what you’re good at. That’s what  _she_  was good at.

  Clementine’s breathing hitched as her bedroom light switched on. With only one leg through the window, Lee had caught her red-handed. Her widened eyes settled on his cross-armed, defeated figure. Her heart sank a little before she inevitably broke eye contact with her foster father, resting her expression.

  “You can’t be doing this anymore, Clementine,” he told her, his voice low and fatigued. “Why’re you doing this?”

  Clementine sighed quietly and pulled the remainder of her body into the room.

  “I just wanted to see Naomi before I leave–“

  “Seeing people this late at night is what got you in trouble in the damn first place… Doin’ all of this smoking an-and sneaking around – it ain’t good for you, Clem,” his voice hardened with concern.

  “Me? Smoke?” she placed her hand over her chest, forcibly dumbfounded. Lee’s worrisome glance morphed into a glare.

  “You make things harder for yourself, Clem. Harder for  _us_. You think I want to send you to some out of state boarding school like you’re some wild child? Some burnout?” he frustratingly threw about his hands, stepping towards her.

  “Then don’t,” she shrugged dismissively, walking over to her bed and slamming herself onto it. The walls of her room were painfully bare, eradicated of her drawings and posters. After the incident with her…car, Audrey lost her mind and tore down all of Clementine’s posters.

  “You ain’t giving me much choice, Clem. How do you expect me to work, take care of AJ,  _and_  pull your ass out of trouble every single week, huh?” Clementine immediately glared at him. His words sparked fear in her mind – fear of abandonment, of burden, of frustration. But she knew Lee wouldn’t dare to do that, so why did that spark turn into a flame the more she dwelled on it?

  “You do it because you love me,” she bitterly insisted.

  “I do,” he looked to her, “I do love you, Clementine, and that’s what’s got you messed up to begin with,” he snapped, his agitated arms uncrossing fiercely. Lee’s reassurance had washed over her a sense of relief she knew she didn’t deserve. “Don’t you care about what you put me through? About what you put your mother and brother through?”

  “Her? My mother?” she scoffed. “I’ll start calling Audrey  _mom_  when my middle name isn’t Diana.”

  “Clem–”

  “And if by some miracle that ever happens,  _shoot me_ , Lee,” she demanded. Her bitter words were like a foul ringing in his eardrums. While sighing and rubbing his forehead, he allowed silence to settle in with the hopes that it would calm her down. Eventually, he made his way over to the foot of her bed and sat down.

  “Alright. I get it, you’re mad,” he spoke tenderly.

  “I am  _beyond_  mad, Lee!” she sat up from her bed with passion. “You let that fucking–“

  “ _Language_.”

  “–that, that  _thing_  send me to a boarding school! I can’t see you  _or_  AJ for God knows how long and it’s all because of  _her!_ ”

  Ordinary school was boring and excruciating enough as it is, but going to some namby-pamby, clean-cut, uniformed boarding school? It’s like they  _wanted_  her to stick out like a sore, broken thumb. More than ever before.

  “No, Clem. You’re going to that school all because of you,” he glanced at her through his brows. “What you did? In front of all those people? That’s your responsibility. That’s the mess  _you_  made. We ain’t doin’ this to hurt you, we doin’ this to help you. Help your wellbeing. You are too damn smart and too damn valuable to let yourself go, sweet pea. I don’t want to see that, and neither does Audrey. The last thing I could ever hope for is that you throw away all the good things you got goin’ for you. You’re not ruinin’ your life over this bitterness you got inside of you,” he sedately expressed.

  “She lying to you, Lee,” Clementine bluntly replied. “She’s doing this because she hates me. Because I know things.”

  “Know what?” he raised a brow at her, “What do you know that makes you think she’s got it out for you?” 

  Clementine almost broke through the skin on her lip as she bit down. No matter what she told him, how much she told him, or how passionately she told it, all she knew was that he wouldn’t believe her. He wouldn’t believe a damn thing that came out of her mouth.

  “Nothing,” she sulked and folded her arms. “She just hates me. I know it, you know it – we  _all_  know it.”

  “You really think a woman who hates you takes you clothes shopping? Or gives you lunch money? Or buys you a dog for your birthday?” he raised his eyebrow at her. “And I know how much you love that dog, so don’t give me nothin’ about him being crappy.”

  “…He’s alright,” she mumbled before shaking her head and glaring at him again. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t hate me,” she insisted, causing him to sigh with frustration. He shot up from the bed and marched over to her window.

  “Clem, if you ain’t gonna listen to me then I don’t know what the hell else to do, alright? Maybe you really do need to spend time away from everything or be disciplined or somethin’,” he rambled, shutting her window and flipping the latch.

  “So you’re just going to send me away? Just like that?” she stared at him incredulously, overcome with desperation.

  “You got all your bags packed?” he asked her dismissively while slowly pacing around her room.

  “Lee–”

  “‘Cause I ain’t driving all the way out of state twice because you forgot your underwear or something else important like your tooth brush or deodorant–”

  “Lee!” her resonating voice blared on the verge of brittle desperation. She glanced up at him painfully, her brows furrowed. “I can’t go there. Please don’t make me go there,” she shook her head slightly. The look on her face wounded him, his head dropping into his hand as he sighed.

  “Look… until I see some improvement, maybe then we can talk about letting you come home, okay?” he compromised, but Clementine resisted.

  “No, but, Lee–”

  “It’s for your own good,” he repeated sternly, pausing at the drop of her expression. “Don’t let me down, Clementine.”


	2. oh, mullet boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clementine arrives at Ericson’s Boarding School with a goal and a self-sabotaging defense mechanism. She meets the face behind the school, her tour guide, and some rather outlandish personalities.

**08 APRIL 2003**

 “Okay, uh… eye spy with my little eye… a fish!” AJ barked with enthusiasm, evoking a chuckle out of Lee as he watched the road.

  “Aw, come on. Now that’s too ea–”

  “Lake,” Clementine interrupted, her hand propping up her disgruntled face atop of the door’s armrest.

  “–sy…” Lee disappointedly continued, pursing his lips. The car zoomed past the sun-twinkled lake before the driving straight back into the woodlands.

  “Damn it! How do you do that?” AJ sat dumbfounded, folding his arms.

  Clementine wouldn’t dare to look her foster father in the eye; she was at her wits end with this whole boarding school fiasco. She didn’t  _have_  to be punished like this, because no one did. Not even the pettiest of mutts. Boarding schools were just prison for kids that no one would listen to. If it weren’t for Audrey, Clementine would be snoozing in first hour Calculus right now. Instead, she was confined to the leathers of Lee’s station wagon, forced to sit through a foolish nine a.m. game of I Spy. She was suffocating, and it was all because of Audrey.  _Audrey, Audrey, Audrey._ Her last Monday of freedom was spent brooding over the fact that her life was essentially over. She packed the rest of her belongings, took Sam for one last walk, and had a nap to adjust her sleeping schedule. Oh, right. Did she mention she had to wake up at four in the morning just to get there by  _noon?_  Lee took one hell of a sick-leave and even pulled AJ out of pre-school for the next two days just to drive her to some hell-hole on steroids. Audrey was on yet another one of her “business trips,” which meant she didn’t want to stick around to watch Clementine beg for her liberty one last time. Funny, she thought Audrey would have liked to see that.

  “You gonna lighten up any time soon?” Lee playfully nudged her with his hand.

  “Not unless you light a fire under my ass,” she mumbled, a giggle immediately erupting from the young boy in the backseat.

  “You swore,” AJ said, a sly grin flickering onto his face. “You said ass, ass, ass–!”

  “ _Language_ ,” Lee firmly warned, glaring sternly into the rear-view mirror before looking back at the road. “Look, I know you think I’m excited to send you off. But you know that ain’t the case,” he insisted. “I’ll miss you. I always miss you when you’re not around. Shit, I miss you right now. I didn’t want it to go this way.”

  “Then don’t let it,” she persisted, dropping her hand in frustration. “If you really don’t want me to leave, then don’t let it happen.”

  “But it has to, for you,” he assured her. “You’re gonna come out the other end of this a better person. I’m just sorry it’s not me who gets you to that point – like it’s supposed to be.”

  Clementine’s brows furrowed as she sighed. It seemed that disappointing Lee at every turn, around every corner, had finally taken its toll. This really  _did_  feel like the end. All the outbursts, all the shenanigans, the general crappiness… it was killing him more than it was killing her. Maybe it was time to succumb to her plight. She was on her way to a  _boarding school_  of all things, it was clear that Audrey had won. Maybe it was time to make Lee happy for once and just grow up. This was her last chance to prove herself worthy of amounting to something in this life – to be a good role model for AJ, a good daughter for Lee, and hell, a good “I’m better without you” to Audrey. All she had to do was face this school head on, and maybe then, she could come out on top of all this.

  “I’ll… Fine, I’ll try, okay?” Clementine turned to him. “I’ll try. Just… stop talking about it. Please.” 

  Lee’s lips formed a restrained grin. His head nodded as he averted his eyes back to the road.

  “That’s all I ask, Clementine.”

  As midday came, the woodlands soon engulfed the landscape with its abundance of trees and bushes. The road became almost intolerably bumpy as they grew closer to the rural and rugged area of West Virginia. Signs overgrown with plant-life guided them along the trail to the isolated location of the boarding school. The nearer it drew; the more Clementine felt her heart swell in her throat. Anxiety settled into her guts and into her bones and she could have sworn she was about to throw up. Emerging through the skyline were grungy, concrete walls that imprisoned what she unfortunately realized to be the campus. Her assumptions of a clean, preppy boarding school were quickly scrimmaged by the chipped bricks and rusted gates. Security guards wielding guns and batons in their holsters accompanied the thick walls, keeping stern eyes out for what she could only think of as desperate children trying to escape. This didn’t look like some posh boarding school in the fields of England, this looked like  _misery_.

  “Oh man, does he have a gun?” AJ leaned forward in awe.

  “Gun?” she reiterated, her horrified eyes appealing to her foster father for comfort. “Are you kidding me?”

  Lee stayed quiet as he drove towards the iron-barred swing gates that towered before them, solemnly avoiding the confrontation of her pleading eyes. As he came to a stop, the two patrolling guards casually strolled up to either side of the car. Lee immediately rolled down his window to give his name and state of business to the expectant guard on his side. Meanwhile, in the midst of her caution, Clementine’s eyes glued to the other guard that paced around her side of the car, examining his stature, his utensils, and more terrifyingly, his opaquely black sunglasses.  _There is no sun_. After a few seconds of leisurely scoping the car out, the guard bent over and stared at the girl through the window. At least that’s what she assumed, being that she couldn’t see his eyes.

  “I like his glasses,” AJ commented, watching the man through his window.

  “Stop talking,” Clementine ordered of her brother.

  “We’ll get the gates,” one of guards informed Lee with a nod. He finally rolled up the window and glanced over at her encouragingly.

  “He seemed nice,” Lee said in a bid to relieve her, but Clementine sunk down into her seat, burying her chin into her sweater.

  “Well, he had cool glasses,” AJ quietly echoed, leaning back into his seat.

  With the assistance of the guards, the gates widened to reveal the circular courtyard of the grounds. As a colonial building encapsulated the view of the windshield, Clementine slowly lifted herself up to inspect her impending doom. The car rode leisurely around the roundabout, allowing her to take in her unanticipated surroundings. Groundskeepers mowed the vibrant, green grass, but the pathways were cracked and dirt-ridden. The buildings were clean for the most part, but were old and worn down. This place had surely been around for a while. It was as if she walked into a physical oxymoron, unable to determine whether it was your average, immaculate boarding school or crummy juvenile centre. The few kids who wandered around the courtyard stopped to watch the car pull in with their uninviting eyes. They weren’t in any pristine boarding school uniform or prison jumpsuit like she expected – instead, they wore average clothes, like average kids, going at an average school. Alongside the gut-wrenching fear she harboured, Clementine thought she couldn’t be any more lost than what she currently felt.

  Lee pulled up in front of the main building, the one with four white, colonial pillars. He set the handbrake and sighed, worryingly glancing over at his foster daughter.

  “This is where you’re leaving me?” a baffled Clementine asked, observing the courtyard from her window again.

  “Looks kinda… yucky,” AJ admitted, examining the campus.

  “It ain’t that bad, Clem. I know it looks intimidating, but all you gotta do is follow the rules and you’ll be out of here in no time,” he said, attempting to comfort her.

  Clementine looked over to Lee with concern, witnessing the mandatory smile he forced onto his face. She was here now, there was nothing she could do. And as it dawned on her, she deadpanned and sighed in defeat. There was no going back now.

  “If I make it that long,” she mumbled, her head falling back into the headrest. 

   She forced the car door open as Lee and AJ followed suit, reluctantly stepping out and grabbing her backpack before slamming the door. Lee headed to the trunk where her suitcases were, leaving her to analyse the pillared buildings again as he grabbed them. Without warning, AJ unexpectedly charged up to his sister and bear-hugged her, nuzzling the side of his face into her stomach.

  “I’m gonna miss you, Clem,” he admitted despite maintaining his usual giddiness. She pried his small arms from her body and knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’ll miss you too, goofball,” she muttered just audible enough for him to hear. A smile inevitably stretched her lips.

  “Promise me you’ll be good so you can get out of here faster?” his voice hardened stringently, pointing at her. “I don’t like it when you’re not around. There’s nothing to do.”

  “I’ll be out in no time, AJ, don’t worry about it. As long as you promise me to make Lee take Sam for walks while I’m gone, I’ll be good,” she compromised.

  “Deal,” he nodded, grinning widely.

  Lee closed the trunk and grabbed her two beige suitcases from the ground, making his way over to his foster children beside the car. She stood from the ground and took them from Lee’s hands, her smile falling from her face as reality wormed its way into her head.

  “You be good now, you hear?” Lee insisted, placing his hand upon her shoulder.

  “Whatever,” she shrugged, glancing at the car. With his thumb and index finger, Lee grabbed her chin and directed her gaze back towards him, his brows furrowing at her.

  “Be good,” he reiterated firmly, causing her expression to soften. She wanted to – she wanted to for him. But she just didn’t know how. He planted a kiss on her forehead, something so bittersweet, and motioned his head for her to enter the building. 

  For the first time in a while, she finally listened to her foster father, and did just what he said. She marched herself up the stairs, forcing the lump in her throat back down her oesophagus, and walked straight into the main building.  If it weren’t for the few updated pieces of furniture, Clementine could have sworn she walked into an old, bourgeois, Victorian mansion. Trophy cases, upholstered loveseats, framed paintings of fruit – the haughty décor was borderline repulsive, she could only grimace as she slowly walked towards the wooden staircase. On either post of the stairs was a plaque – one with an upwards facing arrow that directed her to the Headmaster’s office, and the other, to Youth Services. As she looked up, she noticed the staircase split into two directions only to end up on the same level, meters away from each other.  _What the…?_  After staring at the redundant architecture for a few moments, she eventually hauled her suitcases alongside her as she trudged up the stairs. She stopped to breathe once she made it to the top, examining the horizontal hallway she was soon to step into. Before she could fully recognise the sign for the Headmaster’s office, a formally clad woman in black kitten-heels appeared out from one of the heavy-doored offices. Her bold, brown eyes peered up from her clipboard and noticed the stray teen at the staircase.

  “Oh, you’re our new arrival. Miss Everett, right?” the woman’s voice was powerfully domineering as she approached the teen, her hand extended out. “I’m the Deputy Headmistress, Ms Lilly Caul,” she introduced. 

  “Hi Ms… Lilly Caul,” Clementine awkwardly greeted, her head motioning down to her suitcases, signalling she was unable to shake her hand. The Deputy Headmistress frowned, still expectant of her reciprocation, however Clementine’s unmoving gaze made it clear she wasn’t budging. With annoyance, the woman sighed and dropped her hand.

  “ _Just_  Ms Caul,” she corrected, her tone firmer. She then pointed to the door she exited from. “The Headmaster is expecting you in his office. Don’t make him wait.”

  Clementine forced a painful huff, again motioning to her suitcases. 

  “Can’t really open the door…” she fumbled her smile. 

  Ms Caul strenuously rolled her eyes at the girl before whirling around and opening the door for her.

  “Miss Everett, sir,” Ms Caul bleakly introduced, allowing her to step in.

  “Holy crap…” Clementine disgustedly mumbled, causing Ms Caul to clear her throat at the brash words. 

  The interior was almost pristine. From the executive bookshelf that spanned over the wall, to the inbuilt fireplace – her scabby high school was nowhere near as pompous as this. The Headmaster spun around on his leather-upholstered chair, revealing his big build almost ominously. Clementine tried to refrain from humouring his inadvertently comical chair swing, accidentally letting a scoff come out. The skin on his face had sagged and wrinkled so harshly that the resemblance of a bulldog was not far off. His cheeks wobbled with every slight movement he made. It was  _severely_  off-putting.

  “Much appreciated,” he gave Ms Caul a nod. “Oh, Lilly, before you go— could you also excuse Mr Reynolds from class for me, please?” His swanky accent made it hard for Clementine to pinpoint whether he was ordinarily this cavalier sounding, or just enjoyed sounding like a  _douche_  for the fun of it.

  “Will do,” Ms Caul complied through a sigh.

  “Come and take a seat, Miss Everett,” he invited as Ms Caul left, gesturing to the lounge seats across his desk.

   She dropped her bags besides the seat and slumped down, watching the man observe her through his characteristically round glasses. He arose from his upholstered office chair and rested his hands behind his back, staring her down the bridge of his nose.

  “Welcome, Miss Everett. My name is Brian Grant Ericson, Headmaster here at Ericson’s Boarding School. Now, I’m not too fussed with what you decide to call me. Headmaster or Mr Ericson will do just fine,” he made clear with a nod of his head. “This school has been in my family for generations – my father was a Headmaster, as was his father, all the way up to my great, great grandmother, Arabella Ericson,” he explained, slowly pacing behind his desk. “As you may have already seen, there is no requirement of a uniform at this school.” She raised her brows in surprise. “The only exceptions to this are P.E. uniforms and the Ericson bomber jackets we issue to students during the winter. Here at Ericson’s Boarding School, we deem it substantial for students to be able to express individual identity in a manner that does not harm themselves or others.” His eyes then observed her expression – the concoction of relief and bewilderment on her face caused him to scoff. “You’re troubled, Miss Everett. Not a prisoner,” he assured her, bearing a slight condescension to his tone. 

  “The armed guards outside tell a different story,” she challenged, her brow rising in suspicion. The man chuckled.

  “Those guards are not out there to combat you, young lady. They are safety precautions we take when it comes to strange persons wandering onto campus. They will, of course, enforce the rules onto students, but weapons are definitely  _not_  used against you under  _any_  circumstance. Our guards are trained to disarm youth without the use weaponry,” he assured her. “Nonetheless, we aim for  _reform_. Not blind obedience. However, with that being said, we  _do_  require your complete and total cooperation if you are to benefit from what our school has to offer. If you aren’t willing to cooperate, then by all means, you are at your liberty to leave.” 

  Stunned by the causality of his tone, Clementine hesitantly perked up.

  “Just like that? I can leave?” she asked, leaning out of her seat.

  “Well, if you want to be eaten by bears, that is. Or get lost and starve to death in woods – it’s your choice, really,” he chuckled, watching her eagerness retreat back into her seat. “If you want to leave, Miss Everett, your parents or guardians need to unenroll you. You simply cannot stroll off the campus at your liking. We have  _rules_ here, young lady. Rules to ensure you and the students around you are safe. On these premises, there is to be no smoking, no consumption of alcohol, no buying, distributing, or consumption of narcotics, no skipping your classes, no brawling– “

  “ _Brawling_ …” she scoffed at the old-timely word.

  “–no threatening or abusive behaviour towards staff or students of any kind, and no prohibited weapons. If a weapon is found on your person, depending on the weapon, you may face consequences ranging from suspension to detainment by police. You are  _not_  to leave school grounds for any reason without a supervisor to drive you or without parent or guardian confirmation and transport. Do I make myself clear?” he asked, earning her gaze. She stared up at him in response, however, it didn’t suffice. 

  He had completely drained the life out of her and she hadn’t even been here for five minutes. Of course a man as boring and clean-cut as ‘Brian Grant Ericson’ was running a boarding school. You wouldn’t find someone with a cool name like Enzo, or Siobhan, or  _Lee_  running a boarding school in the middle of goddamn nowhere.

  After a few seconds of uncomfortable eye contact, she eventually nodded her head in agreement. As the Headmaster began to speak, a knock at the door captured his attention.

  “Come in,” he called out, sitting back into his chair. Clementine stared at the Headmaster as she listened for the voice of the visitor.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” a young man spoke.

  “Yes, Mr Reynolds, we have a new student here that I would like for you to show around,” he gestured over to her as she slowly sank into her seat. “Her guidance notes are right here. I suggest stopping by the dormitories first so she may put her bags down and whatnot.”

  As the boy came into view, he reached for the papers on the desk and casually scanned over them. Turning towards her, he held out his hand for her to shake without missing a beat.

  “Hey there, I’m Marlon. Head of the Sophomore student body.”

  Clementine unwittingly sensed a snotty aura from the boy in front of her. She always felt odd around the high and mighty – it seemed cold and uninviting up there. The entire concept of someone considering themselves above you was soul draining. Who wanted to be regarded as inferior? He might as well have introduced himself as “better than you,” at least then there would be an ounce of respect for someone who’s honest about his assholish-qualities. That was, until, she focused on him more intensely. The choppy mullet, the battered bomber jacket, the bitten fingernails – ‘snotty’ was just pushed aside by ‘painfully ordinary.’

  “Clementine,” she brusquely responded, ignoring his gesture and standing from her seat. 

  Marlon glanced down at his unengaged hand and shrugged breezily at the Headmaster.

  “As the school day’s almost over, I don’t expect you to start classes until tomorrow morning,” the Headmaster told her, “so make yourself comfortable and be ready by then. Your dorm room, locker number, and class schedule are on the papers Mr Reynolds has. Your assigned guidance counsellor will be checking in with you soon, and as always, I hope your stay here is helpful, Miss Everett.”

  Clementine returned his seemingly disingenuous smile with an insincere nod and hoisted her bags up. Her guide led the way out of the office and waited for her beside the heavy-set doors.

  “You need help with those?” he asked as she finally approached him, leaning in to grab one of her suitcases.

  “I’m fine,” she tugged her luggage back, her glare hot and pointed.

  “I’m sure you are,” he began with a grin, “but you look a little ridiculous holding two huge bags on your own. Let me hold one for you, at least,” he insisted, firmly pulling one of the bags from her hand as he politely smiled.

  “This doesn’t make you any sort of gentleman,” she assured him, raising her now free hand to her hip.

  “You know, despite knowing that, I think I’ll still be able to sleep at night,” he smirked at her. “Follow me.”

  As Marlon headed down the stairs, Clementine unwillingly pursued. She found it a little degrading that a boy with a poorly composed mullet was her shining light in middle of this dingy school – let alone, the head of the year level. Did the Headmaster genuinely like Marlon, or was he just some little errand boy? As high and mighty as he presented himself, he must have got things done around here to hold such a “prestigious” title. Hell, did that even mean anything in some unconventional boarding school? 

  As they reached the bottom of the staircase, Marlon handed over one of the pamphlets from the guidance papers.

  “Alright, so this is your map,” he said, motioning again for her to grab it. “This is gonna be your holy grail for the next few days you’re here. This is a pretty big school, we wouldn’t want you getting lost in it.”

  Peering down at it, she disregarded his assistance and continued to walk towards the exit. She didn’t want some  _stupid_  map of some  _stupid_  school from some  _stupid_  boy with a  _stupid_  bomber jacket. She wanted to get out of here and go back to Georgia where her life was. Not be strung around the prison she was forced to live in for who knows  _how_  long. She knew she was meant to be making Lee proud by transforming into some miracle kid, but homesickness was inhibiting her desire to change. She was furious, nay,  _outraged_  that she even had to step foot in this place. She couldn’t seem to let her bitterness go.

  He watched her with perplexity as she left him behind, his arm still outstretched. Sighing, he dropped his hand.

  “Alright, I get it, you don’t want to be here. You were forced to come and now all you wanna do is get the hell out of this place, right?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Well, you’re not the only one, okay? No wants to be here when they first arrive,” he told her, but despite her regret, her pride encouraged her to keep walking. “This place is gonna help you!” his voice grew louder, prompting her to halt. She turned around, scanning him with her narrowed eyes. “Take it from me. This place works.”

  “This place is working?” she huffed. “You have a mullet.”

  “And you have walls. Mental walls. Just like every other kid who walks into this place. So, if you want to spend your time here moping, wishing you could change what you can’t, then go for it. Waste your time and everybody else’s time. But if you wanna help yourself, then quit being so abrasive. It’ll work wonders, Clementine, I promise.”

  Clementine looked away from him, biting the inside of her cheek as she processed what he said. His words were irritating, but she wasn’t frustrated because he was wrong, she was frustrated because he was nothing but right. She already loathed giving the cold impression she was accustomed to giving, so his words just seemed to chip away at her obstinacy. Guiltily. Sighing forcefully, she eventually conceded. Clementine sulked back over to him and held out her hand, waiting for him to place the map into it. He smirked at her submission, handing the it over before gesturing towards the door.

  “Lead the way,” he said, following her as she begrudgingly left.

  Crossing the courtyard, the two made their way over to the dormitory to drop off Clementine’s bags. He explained whichever drawers were empty, were hers. And the sheetless bottom bunk was hers too. Almost as soon as they got there, they left and ventured to the building where the classrooms were. After breaking down her teenage apathy, she partially resented him for inexplicably encapsulating her into some ‘defensive teen’ archetype. Yes, she  _was_  bitter – wouldn’t anyone be? But she knew she had to be tolerant for now. As much as it would feel satisfying to rip into Marlon, like making fun of his lame haircut or simply regarding him as ‘hillbilly trash’, she knew he was right and she knew she really did need his guidance. So alas, Clementine kept her resentment for him at bay and carried on.

  “So, Clementine,” Marlon began as they trekked through the halls, “how long do you think you’ll be here?”

  “Hopefully no more than ten minutes,” she said, observing the banged-up lockers, “but something tells me I’ll be here for a lot longer than that.” 

   Marlon shrugged.

  “Well, don’t lose hope yet. Summer break starts in about eight weeks and, if you can, you get to go back home. See your family, your friends, it’ll be like you never left,” he informed her. “Besides, newbies don’t tend to stay too long as of late. We haven’t had a new kid stay for more than a couple weeks in a while now. They just don’t stick around for good anymore.”

  As they turned the corner, the bell rang, and Clementine couldn’t have been more unprepared for the flock of students to pour out of the classrooms. The chatter of kids bounced off the walls as they began opening up their lockers, loitering besides drink fountains, talking to one another, and more noticeably, staring at the new presence before them. Eyes – seemingly from everywhere – darted towards her as she tried to follow Marlon through the herd. They visually probed her, looking her up and down almost invasively.

  “I think I can see why,” she frustratingly shouted over the noise.

  “Oh, you get used to the staring,” he assured her. “Just don’t make it a habit to stare back. Some people, uh, get the wrong idea.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed a kid throw a tall, lanky boy up against a row of lockers. The collision resonated throughout the hall, prompting nearby students to adjust their attention to the scuffle.

  “That common here?” Clementine observed the two students as they wildly gripped each other’s shirts.

  “I wouldn’t say otherwise. That small kid? That’s Russell. He’s new too and, uh, quite the hothead as you can tell.” As he walked past the commotion, Marlon cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting at them as they went by. “Hey idiots! Put your dicks away and get to your next class! Coach Randall’s gonna need that intensity on the field, not in your diapers, ya babies!” he barked at them, earning nothing but distasteful glares.   
      
   Clementine huffed.

  “Witty,” she said, crossing her arms. Unimpressed by the two, Marlon shook his head.

  “The people here, they ain’t that bad,” he reassured as they continued down the hallway. “You’ve got your handful of dick-swingers, that much I know of. But there’s some good people in these halls. Like my best friend Louis, I’ve known him since I was kid. He’s been by my side ever since. You don’t find that kind of loyalty just anywhere,” he told her. However, doubt filled her mind.

  “So, he’s loyal because he goes to a boarding school?” she raised her eyebrows sceptically.

  “No, I met Louis back at home. In Indiana. His parents shipped him off here after he, uh… did something he shouldn’t have. They heard this school was working wonders for me, so off he went. But no matter what this school throws at us, we’re still brothers. What I’m saying is these aren’t just your run of the mill kids, Clementine. They’ve been through things you wouldn’t imagine. Been around people who showed them what pain was. They appreciate good people when they see them.”

  “Yeah, well, all I see is a bunch of freaks,” she replied, scanning the students who passed by. Marlon huffed.

  “Look in the mirror, Clementine,” he smirked, stopping in the middle of the hall to look at her. “You’re at home.”

  She deadpanned at him; he couldn’t be anymore wrong. She wasn’t made for this place. This place was suffocation; it was claustrophobic. Not even fifteen minutes in and this place already had its boot on her neck. This wasn’t home, this was some big, haughty man sitting on top of a small, concrete box of rabid roaches. And Clementine was in that box, trapped and smothered.

  Her eyes suddenly caught sight of two boys slowing down beside her, scrutinizing her coldly as they went past. Marlon immediately grabbed her shoulder and pulled her alongside him, briskly evacuating the area.

  “Oh, they’re, uh, they’re the St. John brothers,” he told her, a nervous laugh escaping his mouth. “Don’t go near them. They’re, um, they’re  _actually_  weird.”

  “See?” she crossed her arms.

As they passed another corner, a girl amongst her friends leaned against a locker and eyed the pair – more specifically, Marlon. He glared back at the girl, speaking through his gritted smile.

  “Darling,” he addressed her, almost like he was greeting his sworn enemy and earning nothing but narrowed eyes from her. “Seen Louis around?” he asked, finding her unmoving gaze in response. He shook his head as they eventually passed by her, Clementine remaining silent as confusion grew.

  As the second bell rung, the bustling students poured into the surrounding classrooms. What started so abruptly ended just the same way. The halls thinned out and made it easier for Clementine to navigate her tour guide’s whereabouts. Eventually, as the tour continued, Marlon showed her the remaining buildings of the school. Their library was somewhat bigger than her old schools, even having an IT lab adjacent to it. The daunting cafeteria that was conjoined to the classroom building was huge. They had a baseball field and a greenhouse, too. The tour finished inside the gymnasium, where Marlon eventually led her back to her dormitory.

  “Here’s your other papers,” he rested the stack on the desk in front of the bunk bed. “You’re gonna meet your other dorm mates when classes are over for the day.”

  “How many are there?”

  “I think Vi, Sarah, and Brody are in here with you. The last girl they had in here had to move to another dorm after Violet, uh, scared her away,” he mumbled the last bit, staring at the ground regrettably. “Well, she was kind of a dick, anyway. So at least it was deserving. But they’re nice girls once you get to know ‘em. I promise,” he assured her, placing his hand over his heart.

  “Great,” she said through a huff.

  “If there’s anything you need, you come find me, okay? I’m more than happy to help,” he insisted, walking backwards to the door. “Get yourself all nice and settled in and be up at half past seven. First class starts at eight so be ready by then and I’ll be waiting outside to take you.” She stared at him, unimpressed.

  “Trying to make sure I don’t skip out on class?” she questioned.

  “Actually, I’m gonna make sure you know where it is,” he grinned at her, before turning back around and opening the door. 

  Before he could leave, Clementine audibly cleared her throat, her brows furrowing almost cautiously.

 “Um, Marlon?” she called out to him, catching his attention. “Am…” she glanced away, worry striking her face, “am I going to be okay here?” she questioned, folding her arms.

  “If you wanna be, then yeah,” Marlon shrugged. “You gotta think smart, Clementine. That’s how you make it here. And hey,” he paused, catching her gaze with his arms proudly stretched out. “Welcome to Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth,” he smirked.

* * *

   _Locker 343 is… right by the fountain I passed twice,_ Clementine thought to herself.  _What a shocker._

  As she was unpacking her belongings back at the dorm, a messenger-pigeon freshman bugged Clementine to go collect her textbooks from the library. By the time she set out to do so, the bell had just rung and boy, oh boy would there be encounters with hordes of students. To avoid conversation with anyone, she grabbed Lee’s old Walkman and popped her headphones on before she left. She wished she didn’t have to resort to such an old way of listening to music, but Lee couldn’t afford to buy a new MP3 player and something tells her that was due to some lousy boarding school fees. And, well, not being the greatest of daughters around. The librarian was some saggy, old lady with a blonde pixie cut and pink, freshly painted nails. A real “get me your manager” type. She called herself Dee. Dee dumped the books in front of the girl and explained how grateful she should be that her parents actually paid for textbooks. So, as usual, Clementine didn’t utter a word as she took the books and left.

  Clementine reached into her pocket and pulled out the scrunched wad of paper. Inputting her locker combination, she opened it up to find it dusty, a little crummy, and definitely old.  _At least there’s no roaches… I think._  Helping to detach from the world around her, she raised the volume of the mixtape Lee put together for her. It reminded her of those warm summers nights where she laid out on her bed, cracked open the window, and blasted her music as loud as she wanted because Audrey was on a business trip. Lee never minded as long as she turned it down by ten, just so the neighbours wouldn’t leave a passive-aggressive note in their mailbox the next day. She knew it was those little, insignificant moments she was going to miss. Those tiny freedoms of living in your own home with your own stuff in your own bedroom. Sometimes AJ would burst through the door and put the volume louder so he could hear the music from his bedroom. And sometimes, she let him stay with her.

  In the midst of unloading her books, a guy slid into her vision beside her locker with ease. Too  _much_  ease, if you asked her. His lips formed words but as far as a Walkman on volume ten went, she couldn’t hear a single thing. And she wasn’t about to. The more he tried talking to her, the more she continued to unload her books. The cropped dreadlock-fashioned boy kept a tight smile the whole time he spoke, almost as if she was listening. He then stared at her, expectant of a response, before talking again. Out of confusion as to why he was still talking to her, she grimaced at him. She couldn’t hear a word he was saying and there wasn’t any plans to change that, so why on earth was he still talking? She eventually shut her locker, swooped her backpack over her shoulder, and left him to talk to her shadow. When a person wore headphones, it typically wasn’t an invitation to strike up conversation. She didn’t care if her shirt was on backwards or if she was about to walk right into oncoming traffic – wanting to be bothered was at the very bottom of her list of desires. If it weren’t for Lee’s words of encouragement and Marlon’s nagging reminder to “stop being so abrasive” periodically springing into mind, she would’ve easily told him and his stupid dreadlocks to buzz off as soon as he harboured the thought of approaching her. 

  Clementine left the building and crossed the courtyard to get back to the dorms. As she returned to her room, she noticed two of her dorm mates idling beside her bunk – beside her belongings. One peered over the open suitcase sitting atop of her bunk, while the other leaned against the bedpost, watching her examine the mountain of clothes. Clementine immediately pulled off her headphones.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked protectively of her stuff, stalking towards her bunk. The girl closest to her suitcase almost jumped out of her skin, staring bewilderingly at Clementine through her rose-coloured frames.

  “Oh, s- sorry! Sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just- I mean, I was- I’m sorry…” the girl continued to stumble over her words, prompting the other girl beside her to roll her eyes.

  “She wasn’t touching your stuff or anything, she just gets curious sometimes. She doesn’t mean any harm or whatever,” she clarified, leaning off the bedpost. Clementine sighed to herself, attempting to finish her unpacking in order to avoid conflict. The girl with the glasses scurried out of her way once Clementine approached her and retreated to her own bunk. “Uh, my name’s Violet. And this is Sarah,” she gestured to the girl with the glasses, “if you care…”

  Clementine side-eyed Violet’s blonde, cropped bob, and offered a shrug as acknowledgment.

  “Do… do you speak much?” Sarah questioned. “It’s okay if you don’t—”

  “ _Ohhh_  my god,” Violet smacked her forehead with her palm, causing Clementine to grin. “Why the  _hell_  would you ask that?”

  “I- I just wanted to know,” Sarah meekly defended.

  “I talk,” Clementine affirmed, folding one of her shirts.

  “Well, no one shuts up at this school, so you should fit just right in,” Violet joked. A knock at the door broke the attention of all three girls and in popped the ginger head of a kind face.

  “Hey, Vi—oh,” the teen halted, “new girl,” she acknowledged with surprise. Clementine’s hand raised to her hip.

  “Are you Brody?” she asked, forcing a scoff from the girl.

  “No, but I think we all wish we could be finger-blasted by Marlon in the janitor’s closet,” she joked, a snort of laughter soon following. Clementine blinked in perplexity as Sarah gasped. “Marlon? The dude who looks like a Lost Boy?” she continued as Clementine still stared at her. “Uh, forget it. It doesn’t matter. I’m Minerva. I just came by for Vi.” she shook her head, casually jerking her thumb at Violet as she approached her.

  “More like  _became_  bi for Vi,” Violet quipped, cheekily grinning at the red head as she nudged her.

  “Quit it, you,” Minerva chuckled, her elbow nudging her back.

   Unexpected to Clementine, Minerva gently cupped Violet’s cheeks in her hands and leaned in for a chaste, swift kiss. Violet then turned to Clementine with the remnants of her smile and leaned against the bedpost again.

  “Hey, uh, Clementine. We’re all heading to the music room, if you wanna join us,” she offered, prompting an unanticipated glance from her girlfriend. “Sometimes some of the band geeks jam in there after class. So, y’know, if that’s your thing…”

  Voluntarily listen to pretentious, snivelling music enthusiasts who think they’re Bach while they play their instruments and tell her all about how her own music taste sucks?

  “I think I’m gonna keep unpacking,” Clementine insisted with a shrug, keeping her eyes on the pair of jeans she was folding.

  “Sure, whatever suits you.” Violet leaned off the bedpost and slid her hand into Minerva’s. She gestured her head to the door, triggering Sarah to stand up and follow them as left the room. Before the door would close, Clementine called out Violet’s name, prompting her to open it wider.

  “Violet… is the computer lab open after classes?” she questioned, crossing her arms out of uncertainty of where to put them.

  “Oh, uh, yeah,” she nodded. “They don’t close it ‘til eight. They’re also prehistoric shit-machines, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  Clementine reluctantly nodded at Violet in acknowledgement. When it came to her own prehistoric shit-machine back at home, her fuse would shorten with every unnecessarily loud beep from the dial-up. She dropped some hints to Lee about buying a new one for the study, but being the sentimental teddy bear he was, he wouldn’t replace it until it was virtually unable to function.

  Violet nodded back at her and closed the door, leaving her to her own devices of amusement. Unpacking. Once she had put all of her belongings away, she decided to finally have some communication with the world back at home. Clementine pushed open the glass door of the library and B-lined for the IT lab. She stalked right past Dee and into the adjoining room where she darted towards one of the computers against the window. With a conversation on AOL’s instant messenger in mind, she hastily booted up the cinderblock of a computer and waited impatiently for it to load up. Five minutes and a boredom-induced session of chipping off her nail polish later, and she was introduced to the Ericson’s Boarding School log in screen.

  “Ugh, what?” she grumbled to herself, inputting a random username and password with the far-reached hope it would work.

  The ‘log in attempt failed’ screen popped up, causing Clementine to bang her fist on the desk in frustration.

  “Hey, don’t do that,” a timid voice spoke from behind her, prompting Clementine to spin around on her chair. An almost chubby guy with socks and sandals stared back at her. He looked way too old to be a student, yet oddly young enough not to be staff. Nonetheless, to avoid getting in trouble, Clementine forced her brows to furrow sadly, hoping he would help her instead of possibly getting her into trouble.

  “I don’t have a log in,” she said as she stared up at him. The guy perked up, pointing to her as if he had remembered something.

  “Oh, you’re the new one, aren’t you? What was your name?” he asked.

  “Clementine,” she replied, but earned an expectant look back. She raised a brow at him. “Everett.”

  “Sweet. I’ve got your log in back at the desk, I’ll go get it for you,” he informed her before disappearing into the rows of computers.

  “How many Clementine’s can there be at this place…” she mumbled to herself as she spun back around.

  Restoring her naturally pouty glare, Clementine impatiently stared at the log in screen. Naomi always logged onto AOL before heading off to her four o’clock basketball practice. If this guy was any slower, then she was sure to miss out on talking to her. Glancing around for the guy, Clementine instead locked eyes with a kid in a red beanie in the row behind her. His gaze hurriedly shifted away when they made eye contact, causing her to curl her top lip for a moment before the guy popped back into view.

  “Here you go,” he weakly smiled, handing her a strip of paper with her log in details. “I’m Mr Stevens, by the way. Head of IT. But you can call me Doug, like uh, all the other kids do… without permission,” he mumbled insecurely. Clementine stared at him as he awkwardly peered off to the side, scratching the back of his head. Once she realized he wasn’t going to leave without some sort of dismissal, she opted for a nod.

  “Thanks…” she muttered, earning his own nod in response.

  Once Doug ventured off to… wherever he went, Clementine logged in, continued to wait impatiently, and then doubled clicked on the internet browser. But upon typing in the URL on the AltaVista search engine and pressing enter, the browser led her to a godforsaken ‘access denied’ page. Her expression dropped.

  “Not educational material?” she read aloud in outrage, swiftly re-entering in the URL again. They couldn’t have blocked something as harmless as AOL, that was just absurd. However, the page continued to pop up again and with every attempt she made, the harder she would press the keys. “No, no, no…” she mumbled, spamming the enter key out of frustration.

  “There’s a way to bypass that, you know,” a voice spoke up from way too close behind her.

  Clementine flinched at the voice as she instinctively turned around. The kid with the red beanie had made his way up to her, arms folded breezily as he crouched down beside her. She looked him up and down with wide eyes before scooting her chair slightly further away from him.

  “Uh… how?”

  “Eh, it’s easy,” he smirked, lowering his head. “Any fool can do it. Even my sister back at her school. This place can’t keep a kid out of a candy store if they tried,” he boasted. Clementine deadpanned at him. This stooge was wasting her time, she needed answers and she needed it now.

  “Then tell me,” she demanded, prompting him to look up at her.

  “Well, I can… if you do me a favour,” he suggested, her face dropping as she turned back around to the computer.

  “I don’t do favours,” she told him.

  “Pretend to be my girlfriend for a month,” he sporadically insisted. Clementine took her hands off the keyboard and turned around to glare at him.

  “Get lost, kid,” she spat back, and soon enough, his pseudo-charming façade had fallen at her resentful gaze.

  “Come on, I’ll help you bypass all the blocked websites! I promise!” he pleaded with her.

  “I said get lost!” she raised her voice at him, prompting him to stand back up.

  “Fine,” he grumbled as he stalked back to his desk.

  When faced with the access denied page yet again, Clementine groaned, banging her head on the keyboard in frustration. She knew that no matter how long she was here, nothing was going to be easy for her. In fact, this place was already a personal form of hell. If soul selling was on the table, then where in hell was the devil around here?


	3. victory violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clementine begins her run of classes at Ericson’s with an early game of dodgeball and a new friend. As she she tries to contact Lee back at home, Marlon points her in the direction of Louis who seems to know all the tips and tricks around the school. Once old memories creep back into the picture, a shining light is offered to ease Clementine’s troubles.  
> Warnings: People get hit with a lotta dodgeballs.

**09 APRIL 2003**

   Yesterday’s events were surely enough to send anyone packing from this wretched boarding school. But as if that wasn’t enough, all the little frustrations Clementine came to experience broke her spirit a lot easier than usual. First, it was the squeaky, hard bunk beds. Five minutes into trying to fall asleep and out of sporadic anger, she assaulted her pillow for her life being screwed up. Second, it was the muffled dripping of the taps in the bathroom next door. Did no one know how to close a damn faucet around here? And lastly, the hyperactive dorm mates that decide to stay out until two in the morning with their girlfriends,  _Violet_. Clementine laid wide awake, staring at the bottom of the top bunk and resentfully listening to the sounds of high-pitched giggles and whispering by the door.

   “Wait, just one more,” what sounded like Minerva whispered. Violet giggled.

   “You’re gonna get in trouble, you saw Ms Caul walking through the halls,” she told her.

   “One more won’t hurt, will it? Come on,” Minerva pleaded, before the inescapable smacks of kissing ensued. Clementine grabbed her pillow and tried to suffocate herself with it – anything to  _not_  hear what she was currently hearing. But by no means was it working. It was impossible.

   Now that it was bright and early in the morning, Clementine had to enjoy her only time of peace and quiet getting ready for class. As eight o’clock rolled around and she opened the door to leave, she spotted Marlon standing across the hall with a pile of clothes in his hands.

   “Morning, newbie. You sleep well?” he greeted her.

   “Try not at all.”

   “Ah, don’t worry,” he nodded his head knowingly. “You’ll get used to this place in no time. Then, you’ll be able sleep through all the fights and riots like a baby.”

   Clementine glanced down at the pile in his hands, ignoring his morning pep.

   “That for me?” she asked, observing the red shorts and grey shirt he held with a tilt of her head.

   “Your first class is gym,” he handed over the uniform. “I’ll take you to the gymnasium and then I’ve got to head off to my own class. Physics,” he then huffed. “Fuckin’ hate it.”

   Of course, her first class  _had_  to be the most gruelling. Why couldn’t  _she_  have Physics? All she would have to do is just sit there and get used to being around all these odd kids, not have them watch her do jumping jacks and climb some stupid rope that’ll probably fall out of the ceiling.   
  
   Once Clementine went back into her dorm and changed, she and Marlon set off to the gymnasium through the waves of students.

   “Now, newbies do have to be a little more careful when it comes to their first gym class. The kids here,” he huffed, “they’re competitive. They’re not exactly gentle when it comes to fresh meat,” he informed her, leading her into the courtyard.   
  
    Clementine scoffed.

   “Great. I always wanted to know what it was like to lose my teeth,” she quipped.

   “You want my advice?” he shifted his gaze to her.

   “Not necessarily.”

   “Don’t just stand there like your mom forced you to go to the store with her. Put some muscle into it, show ‘em what you’ve got,” he insisted, tightening his fist at her encouragingly. “A lot of these kids are all bark and no bite. But if you back down, they’ll assume power over you. And that’s when they start to dig in. The more you fight back, the more you’ll scare ‘em off,” he told her. “You play much sport?” he then questioned.

   “I… play baseball. Sometimes. With my brother,” she hesitantly replied.

   “That’s good. Being fit and all,” he nodded. “It’s definitely going to help you out here.”

   As they reached the gymnasium doors, Marlon stopped her before she could open them. Truth be told, she didn’t even want to enter.

   “Now Coach Randall is a very nice guy, okay? Just in case you’re worried. If you start to feel a little intimidated, don’t worry, he’s got you covered. But, y’know, I don’t expect that from you anyway,” he smirked.

   “Anyone I might know in there?” she asked, raising an eyebrow to his odd compliment.

   “Uh, let’s see… first period gym…” he mumbled to himself, folding his arms. “Oh, Sarah. The girl in your dorm. Which, if I’m honest, will probably need your help more than you need hers,” he shook his head with a soft grin. “Vi should be in there too if she decided not to skip today. After that, it’s pretty much all new faces in there.” 

    Taking a deep breath, Clementine nodded her head.

   “Time to get humiliated,” she said, facing the door.

   “Hey,” Marlon caught her attention, extending his enclosed fist out to her. “Good luck.”

   Clementine glanced down at it, mildly perplexed at his act of kindness. With unsure eyes, she mimicked his fist and bumped it against his. As if on cue, the bell rang, prompting Marlon to head off to his class and leave her to fend for herself in a gymnasium full of troubled kids. 

 _This is gonna suck_.

    Taking another deep breath, Clementine opened the gymnasium doors to scattered, chattering kids making their way to the bleachers. She spotted Sarah as one of the last ones to make a move and awkwardly paced up to her, walking beside her for a few moments and waiting for her to notice.

   “Oh, hey Clementine. Is this your first class?” Sarah greeted, sitting down on the bottom bleacher and tapping the spot beside her.

   “Yeah. Gym,” she awkwardly responded. 

_Of course she knows your first class is Gym, you’re right here you idiot._

   “It’s not my favourite but… it’s easy to pass,” Sarah admitted. “Also, my Dad says it’s detrimental for your heart to keep active, so I kind of have to.”

   “That’s… cool,” Clementine nodded over-enthusiastically. The whole ‘be good’ schtick that Lee had her under was already proving to be hard. It wasn’t like Sarah was a hateable person, Clementine just had a hard time caring about what she was talking about.

   Saving Clementine from any more bouts of awkwardness, who she assumed to be Coach Randall came out from the office in the back and unexpectedly blew his whistle, causing the kids around her to groan.

   “Yeah, ‘eugh’ sounds about right,” Coach grumbled to the class. “Rise and shine, everyone. Now, today we’re skipping the lap warm ups and we’re gonna be headin’ straight into the game. So look alive, people. Your blood’s gettin’ pumped with a good ol’ game of dodgeball today. This’ll teach you to stay on your guard at  _all_  times. Life don’t give you warm ups when it’s time to get goin’, alright?”

   After another collective groan and whistle blow, the class was split into two teams and the game commenced.

   “God, I hate dodgeball. It’s so harsh…” Sarah muttered from beside Clementine.

   “It’s fine, just play the game,” Clementine insisted with a forced smile, attempting to sound nice amidst her irritation.

   Instead of sticking around to hear Sarah whine or talk about something boring, she opted to run straight for one of the balls and  _away_  from her. Managing to snag one from the midline, Clementine backed away, scouring the opposing team for any easy takers.

   “You like dodgeball?” a familiar voice spoke from beside her. Clementine snapped her head towards Violet who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

   “Hnng—!” she jumped. “Where did  _you_  come from?”

“Snuck in,” Violet shrugged. “Marlon saw me skipping and told me you were in here. Thought you might need a friend.” 

   Bewildered, Clementine could only nod. The more these people extended their grape vines, the more she was thrown off her guard.

   “Hey, you gonna throw that?” Violet asked. “I’ve got my eyes on some pushy idiot in the front.”  
Clementine observed the opposing side, spotting the kid from the IT lab yesterday.

   “The kid in the beanie?” Clementine asked.

   “Uh, yeah. Gabe. Real loser if you ask me,” she rolled her eyes. “I was having locker trouble last week and he said he could fix it if I pretended to be his girlfriend,” she scoffed. “What an idiot.”

   Without a second thought, Clementine shook her head.

   “I got it.”

   Approaching the midline, Clementine spotted Gabe and stalked his movements. Once a clearing formed and with as much precision she could muster, she launched the ball directly at him. Gabe recoiled as the it flew right into his gut, falling down on his knees and gasping for air.

   “Holy shit, Clementine!” Violet called out to her from the back of the court.

   One of the fiercer competitors charged up to Clementine and hurled the ball at her, causing her to instinctively wrap her arms around the incoming object. With enormous eyes, she glanced down at the ball in shock before looking up at the kid who threw it.

   “Russell, you’re out! Let’s go!” Coach Randall signalled, blowing his whistle yet again. As he stormed off the court, Clementine backed over to Violet with the ball in hand and astonishment etched across her face.

   “Any particular reason you went for him like that?” she asked with an amused grin. “Not like it was a bad thing… it was pretty cool.”

   “Computer troubles. You know how the rest goes,” Clementine replied, a smirk soon overwhelming her. “Um, here,” she passed the ball over to the blonde. “I kind of took your target.”

   Without a care about stealth, Violet charged up to the midline and with considerable force, threw the ball at one of the weary kids in the back corner. His equally weary friends scattered from the area as the Coach called him off the court.

   “Come on, you’re making it too easy!” Violet called out to the other team, being met with equally as snide remarks and middle fingers.

   Together, it seemed as if Clementine and Violet were unstoppable. Marlon’s advice seemed to be right, instead of fighting back, kids were trying to avoid whatever incoming balls the girls threw. All bark, no bite. Throw after throw, the other team began to thin out. Clementine didn’t realize she could have this much fun during a lousy game of dodgeball, all things considered. This was… invigorating.

   “Hey Clem,” Violet called out to her from the back of the court. “We’re going to the music room again when classes are over. It’s chill after hours. No dipshits around. You wanna come?” she offered. Clementine peered over her shoulder with a shrug.

   “I, uh, I don’t know…” she scratched her head. “Maybe I’ll—”

   Before Clementine could finish her sentence, the sudden, blunt force of a ball flew right into her stomach, cutting her off and knocking the air straight out of her. Talk about karma, huh?

   “Oh god,” Clementine mumbled to herself with her last breaths, doubling over onto her knees. Well, there went all the fun she was having.

   “How’s that for too easy?!” the kid cheered, turning around to rile up the rest of his team on the bleachers.

   Pestered by his boasting, Violet ran after the ball that hit Clementine and scooped it up. Without hesitation, she dashed over to the midline and launched the ball directly at the kid, knocking him square in the side of the face. The girls’ team cheered as he went down, and once again did Coach Randall blow his whistle.

   “Clementine! Aasim! Both of you, off the court!”

   “You’re an ass, Violet!” Aasim groaned from one end of the court, causing her to snicker.

   “Yeah, well don’t make cheap shots if you can’t take them!” she shouted back.

   Managing to pick herself up, Clementine dragged herself over to the bleachers where she sat next to Sarah for the remainder of the game. Violet ended up winning for their team, resulting in a massive cheer and a prolonged blow of the whistle. Clementine couldn’t help but laugh as Violet chanted her self-proclaimed nickname.

   “Victory Violet!”

   It wasn’t long until the bell sounded and Clementine’s morning classes were over. Lunch hour had eventually arrived, however when the terrifying abundance of students situated themselves in the cafeteria, Clementine decided she just wasn’t hungry. She couldn’t be around all these people at once, going into classrooms of twenty to thirty kids were bad enough. With nothing else to do during the hour, she figured she could call Lee instead. If she couldn’t talk to anyone on AOL, then there  _had_  to be a phone around here somewhere. Lee  _had_  to be wondering how she was. He seemed more scared than she did, after all. Walking through the court yard, Clementine could see Marlon in a rush as he jogged out of the administration building with some taller, preppy looking kid by his side. If she hadn’t caught his attention, he may as well have run right past her. She didn’t mean to interfere with whatever serious business it seemed he was going to take care of, but he was the only person she knew she could ask for help. Needless to say, he as growing on her.

   “Marlon?” she called out to him as he zipped past her. He slowed down, unwilling of stopping, and turned around to the girl.

   “Clem, what’s up?” he asked through his panting, edging closer in the other direction.

   “Do you know where the phones are? I need to make a call,” she asked, folding her arms.

   “Phone? Shit—uh…” Marlon fumbled with his hands, looking back at the direction at the boy he was with. “I’ve got something I need to take care of right now, Clementine. Find Louis, he’ll help you out, alright? He knows what to do.”

   Clementine’s face contorted as Marlon began to head off again.

   “Where the hell do I find him?” she took a few steps forward.

   “Admin building! Just follow the music!” he shouted back to her, walking backwards as he did.

_Music?_

   Letting out a sigh, Clementine glanced at the administration building. It was always daunting having to talk to someone new. If she was being totally honest, she knew she couldn’t carry a conversation without being ‘abrasive.’ It was all she knew: how to drive people away and away and away until they never came back. Though it was different this time, she actually needed something from someone. She couldn’t afford to drive people away, not anymore. But old habits sure did die hard. Laced with uncertainty, Clementine finally worked up the courage to find Louis, or as Marlon put it, “follow the music.” 

 _Whatever that meant_.

   Upon entering the building, the distant sound of piano keys and passionate singing alerted her attention. The disembodied sounds were so unearthly to hear in such a frigid, gloomy place like the boarding school, that she could have sworn she was hallucinating for a minute. It was mellow and pleasant, unlike anything or anyone she had yet to come by. 

   Clementine took the first right and walked down the corridor. With each step, the music grew louder. She peeked her head around the corner to see a few kids chatting on one of the sofas, while others were drawing what the Headmaster would probably call ‘phallic imagery’ on the white board. But as her gaze continued to shift, she landed eyes on the same dreadlock-brandishing kid from yesterday. He was focused as he played away on the grand piano, the girl beside him was singing along to that popular  _4 Non Blondes_  song.

    Immediately, Clementine backed away and turned around. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to him, not after she ignored him so unkindly yesterday. She couldn’t bare the possibility of begging him like an idiot to show her the phones and watching him spit it back in her face. 

_God, why do I have to be such an asshole?_

 she questioned herself, before shaking her head and taking in a deep breath.

   “You need to call Lee. He might not be an asshole back. He can help you… you can do this,” she jaggedly encouraged herself, slowly turning back around.

   Without trying to think much about it, Clementine walked into the music room and slowly advanced to the piano. As she got closer, her eyes caught the red, choppy hair of Minerva beside him. She was almost taken aback at how effortlessly she sung – all Clementine knew about singing was how to sound completely awful at it. It was rude to interrupt, especially something that sounded so nice, but all she wanted to do was call home, feel some type of familiarity among unknown. This had to be done. 

   Clementine eventually forced herself to tap the boy on the shoulder, his head soon turning to glance up at her. Seemingly a little spooked, he did a double take at the girl, his hands accidentally mashing the keys. Minerva’s singing awkwardly came to a jagged stop.

    “What? What’s—” Minerva cut herself off as she noticed Clementine beside the piano. “Oh, hey, uh…  _Clementine?_ ” she guessed, standing up from her seat and approaching her.

   “Clementine. Yeah. Your singing is, um… cool,” she nodded, scratching the back of her head. “It’s pretty amazing, actually.”

    “Shit, thanks,” Minerva shyly replied, taking a moment to grin to herself before she glanced back at Louis. “If you haven’t already met; Lou, this is Clementine. Clementine, Louis,” she gestured between the both of them.

   “Oh, we’re acquainted,” he assured, turning around and leaning his elbow on the end of the grand piano.

   “No we’re not,” she squinted at him.

   “Well, we will be,” he smirked at her, shrugging one of his shoulders.

   “So, what’s up?” Minerva asked, placing a hand on her hip.

   “I—uh, need to use a phone. Do you know where they are around here?” she asked, looking between the two.

   “Oh, easy. I can take you,” Louis perked up, stepping out from between the seat and the piano. 

 _Eh… no, that was way too easy_ , she skeptically thought.

   “You’re… not tricking me, are you?” Clementine hesitantly asked, earning addled stares from the both of them.

    “Louis? Trick you?” Minerva condescendingly chuckled, more so directing her doubts at the boy himself. “He might have his moments, but I’ve seen more of his pranks fail than succeed—”

   “Hey,” he glared back at her, his arms crossing over his chest. “I’ll have you know that  _The_   _Great Pen Leakage of 2002_  will forever haunt Aasim for the rest of his life.  _That_  overrides  _all_  the failures.”

    Minerva scoffed.

   “Yeah, until he got really fucking mad at you and tried to jam your Bio notes down your throat,” she replied. “If it wasn’t for Vi, he would’ve made you his personal note dispenser.”

   “The general consensus here being, it was a good prank,” he declared.

   “Mediocre at best,” Minerva grumbled.

    The pair then stared at her, almost as if they were waiting for her confirmation on the topic. 

   “…Phone?” Clementine blinked, before Louis clicked into action.

    “Right, right. She’s all yours, Minnie,” he said, jerking his thumb at the piano. 

   As she hissed out an excited ‘yes’ and a distracted ‘goodbye’ to Clementine, Louis guided her out of the music room and back into the hallway. It was quiet for those first initial moments. What was she supposed to say? He already knew where to go, and to her surprise, he didn’t seem bitter about yesterday’s interactions. Maybe if she could just shut up and walk, would doing something in this place be somewhat easy for her to accomplish for once…

   But it’s never easy, is it?

   “Tried talking to you yesterday,” Louis began, looking back at her as they trekked through the lobby.

   “Yes. I was there,” she spoke with a tinge of sarcasm in her tone. He chuckled as she stared in front of herself.

   “I could tell by the way you  _expertly_  ignored me that you didn’t want a bar of me,” he managed to maintain his smile. Clementine furrowed her brows.

   “In the nicest way possible, I don’t want any part of you,” she remarked, again earning a chuckle out of him. He found it comical how forthright she was being.  _Alright…_

   “What, you couldn’t do without the extra hand?” he joked, nudging her with his elbow. “I promise, it’s good at what it does. I can show you,” he continued, a grimace promptly overwhelming her face.

   “ _That_  doesn’t sound creepy at all,” she retorted, disgruntled by his crude suggestion.

   “Uh—wait, no, that’s… that’s not…” he stammered over his words, scratching the back of his head. “I meant it plays the piano,” he gestured to his ascended right hand like it was the damn hand of Zeus himself.

   “And judging by the way you talk, I bet it has a lot of alone time too,” she smirked at herself.   
When he suddenly halted in front of her to face her, the blunt force of regret began to seep into her gut.  _Damn it, what happened to not being an asshole?_

   “I’m…” she breathed guiltily, dropping her head.

   “Quite the comedian,” he observed, again, maintaining his now dulled smile. Impressed by his lack of rebuttal, she peered up at him through her self-disappointment.

   “I’ve told my fair share of jokes,” she replied, raising a brow at him.

   Louis was… something. She wondered if she was misunderstanding him; something about him seemed a lot more light-hearted than her expectance let on. At both instances that she anticipated his bite, he took her contempt as if it were somehow a joke. It was incredulous to her, how he constantly deflected her blatant disrespect or how he refrained from getting frustrated with her almost effortlessly. Whatever happy pills he was taking… she didn’t mind sharing. He continued to stare down at her from the higher stair level, but quickly shifted his gaze to the ground out of awkwardness.

   “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or anything,” he assured her before grinning. “I really do play the piano.”

   “Yeah,” she nodded, “I saw.”

   “Good enough to see again?” Louis persisted, his grin widening as he confidently placed his hands on his hips. Clementine stared at him worryingly.

   “You really don’t scare easily, do you?” she questioned, folding her arms over her chest. 

   “What’s there to be scared of?” he retorted, his casually bold smirk plaguing his visage.

    “Apparently a lot,” she raised her brow curiously at him.

   “Welp,” he contently shoved his hands in his pockets, “if you stick around something long enough, the more used to it you’ll get.” His dauntless smirk held no bounds as he then gestured his head towards the rest of the staircase. “Ladies first,” he insisted.

   “So start walking,” she gestured her head as well.

   Louis started to lead the way with a shake of his head, but it wasn’t long before they were brought to yet another stop. Or, rather,  _forced_  to another stop, as Louis instinctively grabbed her arm and yanked her down, forcing her to crouch with him in the centre of the staircase.

   “Jesus—!” she sputtered in shock. “What’s your deal—?!”

   “Shh! Look…” he instructed before pointing to the hallway. The pair watched as the Headmaster left his office to walk down the corridor and into the staff bathroom.

   “So?” Clementine turned to him, unimpressed.

   “So, you better hope he’s got food poisoning, ‘cause now we can make your call,” he told her, her nose then crinkling.

   “What the hell are you talking about?”

   “Students aren’t allowed to just make calls here, and there’s no other phone in the school that can call to the outside world,” he turned to face her. “Sure, teachers have cell phones, but there’s no chance they’d let us use ‘em. The only phone that can make calls to the rest of civilisation is, low and behold, in Ericson’s office,” he said, gesturing to the door as if it were sacred. When met with her persistently confused visage, he sighed. “We can’t just make a call to mommy whenever we want, the Headmaster’s gotta approve and  _supervise_  your call – something I don’t think you’d take to too kindly. So, sneaking into Ericson’s office is the only free route to a phone you’ve got.”

   Clementine grimaced, rolling her eyes at the effort she knew she had to put into this.

   “So much for staying out of trouble,” she mumbled to herself.

   “Oh, this is the best  _kind_  of trouble,” he smirked at her, nudging her once again.

   “You can get your hand off me now.”

   “Right, sorry,” he awkwardly chuckled, retracting the hand that pulled her down. “Come on, let’s go.”

   The teens quietly tiptoed across the hall and up to the Headmaster’s door. Louis gently turned the door knob and calmly took a glance inside, signalling it was clear to her before entering.

   “Alright, the phone is on his desk. I’ll keep watch at the door while you make the call,” he whispered to her.

   “What do we do if he comes back?”

   “I’ll ask him about his food poisoning,” he shrugged, grinning as he waited for her blunt stare to lessen. It didn’t. “Don’t worry, I’ll distract him. But you might wanna make it short call just in case. I can’t guarantee he’ll wanna stick around and talk to me as much as  _you_  clearly love to.” 

   Clementine rolled her eyes again.

   “You were leaving?” she whispered back to him.

   Once Louis managed to stop talking and shut the door, Clementine darted over to the black telephone set and immediately dialled Lee’s number. Hoping he didn’t go back to work a day early, she bit her nails as the ringing commenced, unsure of what to do if he didn’t answer.

   “Come on, come on…” she muttered as panic began to settle in.

   “ _Hello?_ ”

   “Oh my gosh, Lee,” she spouted out in relief, placing her hand over her chest.

   “ _Clementine? What’s wrong, sweet pea? Is everything okay up there?_ ” he worriedly asked.

   “I don’t even know anymore, Lee. This place is just  _weird_ ,” she told him. “Everyone’s either death staring me or… or they’re  _helping_   _me._   _Me?_  Out of all people? These kids are so… charismatic or angry or  _too_  easy going — oh, and my guide is probably the most normal out of all these people and even  _he_  looks ridiculous! He has a mullet, Lee! There’s no middle ground here!” she barked into the receiver. “The teachers even let us call them by their first name! And everyone is so…  _whatever_  they are, and it’s freaking me the  _fuck_  out — oh,  _and_  the Headmaster is all haughty, too, like ‘ _Hellooo_ , Miss Everett! We’re going to  _rehabilitate_  you! Look at my fancy  _office! La, la, la—_ ’”

   “ _Clem—_ ”

   “Speaking of his fancy office, I’m not even allowed to  _be_  in here. But the only phone that can call you is in this… stupid, nice office with stupid, nice curtains and chairs. They don’t even let us make calls! Even prisons let you make calls! And—uh… maybe don’t ask how I know that. I haven’t been to prison, obviously, but… ugh, why am I talking about prisons?” she shuddered.

   “ _Clem, I can’t understand what the hell you’re saying when you talk fast like that, you know that,_ ” Lee exclaimed before sighing. “ _Now give me something digestible, alright?_ ”

   “You want digestible?  _I_  want digestible,” she exclaimed, breathing heavily into the receiver. “This place, Lee—I’m…” she sighed, “I’m so lost, here.”

   “ _I take it you’ve had a bad day, Clem,”_  Lee responded calmly to her blabber.

   “Bad  _day?_  I haven’t slept at all. I haven’t eaten. I’m tired, I’m dizzy, and some kid asked me to be his pretend girlfriend for a month so I pelted him with a dodgeball in gym class,” she spilled, taking a breath from her quick-paced rambling.

   “ _Well… did you win?_ ”

   “Huh?”

   “ _The dodgeball game, did you wi—_ ”

   “That’s not the point!” Clementine almost shouted into the phone, placing her hand on her hip. “But… but yeah, my team won.”

   “ _Good job, sweet pea_.”

   “Ugh, Lee…”

   “ _Look, Clem. Besides not sleeping and not eating, it sounds like you’re havin’ a totally normal high school experience_ ,” he replied, earning her outraged silence.

   “…Are you serious? You’re not serious—”

   “ _Now, the kids in Macon nowadays, they aren’t some bright bulbs. I know that. But you’re_ supposed _to be meetin’ and interactin’ with all these crazy kids. You need that experience, Clem. You need friends, real friends. Ones that aren’t gonna look at you weird ‘cause you can’t afford a new MP3 player, or stop talkin’ to you ‘cause they found the cool kids_ ,” he assured her. “ _Talk to these people. Be nice to them. They’re obviously nice to you ‘cause they see somethin’ in you. That’s something, isn’t it?_ ”

   Clementine paused for a moment to take it all in. Lee’s words eerily corresponded to what Marlon had told her yesterday, about the kids appreciating ‘good people.’ But did she really consider herself as good of a person as they thought? Clementine didn’t have a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t a good person – she was tolerant until that tolerance fleeted, and all that was left was a bitter, resentful girl who dug into anyone and everyone. Good when it counts, perhaps. But good overall? She couldn’t describe herself so. 

   However, Lee was right about one thing. These people, as strange as they were, had more character to them than anyone else she had met back in Macon. Was it fair to disregard the boarding school kids as unusually bizarre halfwits? After years of being toyed with, being held to idiotic standards with no real purpose, and left alone to boil in her bitterness, why were the kids who had helped her deemed abnormal compared to the flesh-suited robots back home? Maybe  _that_  wasn’t normal. Maybe trying to be like everyone else wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

   “I guess you could be right,” she mumbled, twiddling the phone cord between her fingers.

   “ _You know I am, sweet pea_ ,” he chuckled from the other end. “ _Get some food in you, alright?_ ”   
  
   Clementine couldn’t help but grin.

   “Have you walked Sam yet?” she asked, dismissing the topic as she fiddled with a snow globe from the desk.

   “ _No, not yet. I’m a little exhausted from the drive back home_ ,” he told her. “ _Damn near microwaved a bottle of ketchup when I was heating up some nuggets for AJ._ ” 

   Clementine quietly huffed.

   “That’s okay. Maybe sometime later in the week?”

   “ _I’ll try my best._ ”

   Louis’ ecstatic voice could suddenly be heard greeting the Headmaster through the walls. He instantly schmoozed with him before going on to blabber about class schedules and other boring school-related matters he could muster up.

   “Uh— how’s AJ?” she hurriedly questioned, tapping her foot with anticipation.

   “ _Well, he seems a little sad that you’re gone… which is all the more reason to straighten yourself out and get home quicker,_ ” he replied, exhaustion evident in his tone. “ _We want you home, sweet pea_.” Clementine sighed at his words, irritation beginning to overwhelm her.

   “I’ll try my best,” she echoed his previous words, staring at the door cautiously.

   “ _I have no doubt you will, Clem_ ,” he told her. “ _One thing I know for sure is when you wanna do somethin’, you put your mind to do it. Ain’t no stoppin’ you._ ” 

   It was as if her heart had beaten a couple thousand times in those few, short milliseconds. Clementine’s lip began to quiver and she tried so desperately hard to keep her voice from shaking.

   “This time… it might take me a while,” she confessed, rubbing her eyes clear of any threatening tears. “Just tell AJ that I miss him. And I miss you too.”

   “ _Aw, Clem, I miss you every second you’re not here_ ,” he spoke through a sad chuckle. “ _I’ll tell AJ what you said. Do you—uh, have any words for Audrey?_ ” he asked, his hesitation seeping through the receiver.

   “Yeah…” Clementine’s eyes narrowed as she sniffed, her hand dropping from her face. “Ask her how Robert is,” she cryptically responded.

   “ _Who?_ ”

   “I gotta go, Lee. I’ll call you.”

   “ _Wait, Clem_ —"

   Slamming the receiver back into its hold, she shut her eyes, embarking on the silence that was accompanied by Louis’ eccentric conversational skills. It was painful – all of it. The sleepless night, the hunger, the loneliness. She had found a new form of isolation, one she unwillingly put herself through, and dear god was it eating away at her. Clementine shook her head, stepping out from behind the desk and approaching the door. Calmly, she twisted the door knob and opened it to find Louis and the Headmaster by the staff bathroom. His hand excitedly gripped the Headmaster’s forearm as he jabbered on about an “artistic vision” he had for the school. An involuntary grin formed on the girl’s face as Louis spotted her, and she quietly exited the office before trotting down the staircase.

   “But, I get it,” Louis shrugged, “Ericson’s Boarding School is trying to clean up its somewhat tainted image. Buildings need to be refurbished and renovated, yada, yada, yada. However, with that being said, I think the school’s music program is a  _great_  place to start,” he explained.

   As the Headmaster politely declined Louis’ ideas, he pivoted the man aside, just enough to keep Clementine out of the Headmaster’s sight and to let him watch her make her way down the staircase himself. Locking eyes with Louis, Clementine idled long enough to give him a curt nod alongside her dull, yet appreciative smile.

   “Thank you,” she mouthed to him. 

   In the midst of his ideas being shot down, he responded with a wink, something she shook her head at as she continued down the staircase.

   “It’s just not one of our concerns right now, Mr Scott. However, I do appreciate your vigour for our school’s sustainability. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters to tend to in my office. If you would like, try brainstorming some ideas on how to deter misconduct in students, perhaps?”

* * *

 _Clementine brushed the spider webs off from her pants and leaned back up from the floor. The whole sneaking in and out situation was really dirtying all her favourite clothes, she started to wonder if AJ’s window was a better solution._ No, he’d just want to come with me _, she thought to herself. As the dryness in her throat ached for relief, she decided to quietly pursue the kitchen for a glass of water. If Lee woke up and busted her, that would be the second time this month. And Clementine wasn’t about to further ruin her almost perfect record of not being caught. Upon leaving her bedroom, the faintest of laughter from downstairs caught the girl’s heightened attention. Her furrowed brows dug deeper as she cautiously walked down the stairs, the light of the living room catching her eye. She recognised Audrey’s caramel-brown hair poking out from the recliner that faced the living room. The curly phone cord hyper-extended to the receiver in her hand, and once again, she let out a suppressed giggle._

_“I can’t, baby. You know I can’t,” Audrey spoke softly before letting out another chuckle. “He might be a little naïve, but he’ll get suspicious if I’m gone twice a week.”_

_Clementine’s eyes widened._

_“Listen_ — _baby listen…” she paused. “We’ll spend time together again next week, alright? I’ll just tell him I’ve got an emergency meeting in Virginia or somethin’.”_

_The voice on the other end was too muffled and static-like for Clementine to recognise, but she knew for a fact that it wasn’t Lee, who was asleep all the way up in his bedroom. She knew something was up with Audrey, she could feel it ever since she went on her first business trip, like a cold settling on her skin. Why did the manager of an insurance company need to go on so many business trips?_

_“Hot and heavy, just like you like it, baby,” she giggled again, triggering the gag reflex in Clementine’s throat._ _Yuck _.__

_Who the hell could she be talking to like that at three in the morning? It was disturbing enough hearing it be said to Lee through their paper thin walls, but Clementine knew for a fact that she wasn’t supposed to be saying that to anyone else._

_“I’ll see you at work tomorrow, don’t you worry,” she continued. “Goodbye Robert,” she spoke in a long, sultry tone before letting out one last giggle and hanging up._

_“Robert…?” Clementine mumbled to herself, grimacing at the ground in front of her._

_As Audrey stood up and walked around the recliner, Clementine decided to reveal herself, arms crossed and glare stern. The woman’s warm smile immediately dropped into something bitter at the sight of her enraged foster daughter. She shook her head, smacking her lips at the young girl._

_“Sneaking out again, huh?” Audrey folded her arms in disappointment. “Lee ain’t gonna like this, kid.”_

_“Lee won’t like a lot of the things you just said,” she readily retorted, stepping out from behind the staircase rail. Audrey grew shocked at her remark._

_“What on earth are you talkin’ about? I was on the phone to my mama_ — _am I not allowed to call my mama in my own house?” she quietly exclaimed, a grimace setting upon Clementine’s face._

_“During the night? Telling her she likes it hot and heavy?” she asked incredulously, unfolding her arms. “And is Robert some cute little nickname you call her, too?”_

_“You’ve got no damn clue what you’re talkin’ about,” she shook her head dismissively. “You keep putting yourself in other people’s business, and you gonna do some serious damage, little girl.”_

_“No, you’re doing the damage!” Clementine growled, stepping up to the woman robustly. “You’re hurting him and all he’s done is love you! Why the hell would you do this?!”_

_With a knowing grin, Audrey scoffed, shaking her head at the girl’s persistence._

_“When are you gonna learn that what you say doesn’t matter, Clementine?” she spoke hollowly, staring into eyes. “There’s a reason he’s always takin’ my side over yours. You’re just his pain-in-the-ass little girl. And I’m his wife – a grown ass woman. I got a career,” she spat sternly, letting out another scoff. “You barely show up to your classes.”_

_“He’ll still believe me—”_

_“No,” she huffed out a chuckle, “he won’t. And if he does, then he’s gonna be stuck with a smartass girl that ain’t even his. And he’s gonna hate his life so much, he’ll be beggin’ for me to come back. So, don’t go botherin’ him about what you assume you heard, because he won’t believe a damn word out of your lyin’ mouth.”_

_Fists balled and nose crinkled with resentment, Clementine wouldn’t advert her white-hot glare from the horrid woman that stood before her. She didn’t want to go down the ‘evil adoptive mother’ path in life, she saw it too often in movies, but saying she loathed her foster mother would be the understatement of the century. This wasn’t betrayal, this was deceit, and it had been all along. Deceit to her, deceit to Lee, deceit to everyone who ever thought she was a ‘busy foster mother just doing her best.’ Audrey was playing everyone._

_“What’s goin’ on down here?” Lee’s groggy voice sounded from the staircase, Clementine’s hefty glare unmoving from Audrey._

_“Clem just had a bad dream, is all,” she gleefully replied, placing her hand comfortingly on Clementine’s shoulder. “Heard her stirrin’ in the night. I thought she might need to sit down and talk about it for a while, clear her head before she goes back to sleep.”_

_With tears of anger welling up in her eyes, Clementine started to shake almost uncontrollably._

_“Clem, how come you’re not in your pyjamas?” Lee asked as he approached her. “Tell me you ain’t sneakin’ out again_ — _”_

_“I don’t know, she must’ve fell asleep before she changed,” Audrey quickly replied, halting Lee’s frustration. “Right, Clem?”_

_Lee turned his daughter around to face him, but dropped his dubious brow at the sight of her tears. Her look of disdain had cowered at Lee’s concern and she quickly became overwhelmed, unsure of what to do other than unwillingly agree._

_“I_ — _I forgot to change…” was all she could muster out before breaking down into Lee’s chest._

 _“Clem_ — _”_

_“That nightmare she had…” Audrey shook her head worriedly. “It wasn’t an easy one, Lee.”_

_He glanced at his wife expectantly, and hugged Clementine tighter when she nodded in confirmation. Nightmares had followed Clementine around since the day her parents died – like a plague that wouldn’t kill you, but only wear you down for the rest of your life. But today wasn’t one of those days. Today, her nightmare was standing right beside her, threating to break yet another family of hers apart._

_“It’s just a bad dream, sweet pea,” Lee assured her, rubbing her back as she tightly gripped his shirt._

* * *

   Clementine’s brows furrowed at the painful tinge of her memories. The stiffness of her bunk barely bothered her as the conversation from all those months ago consumed her vacant thoughts. Audrey, Lee… it had been a while since she found out. She still didn’t know what to do. It was some dirty, indigestible secret that Audrey wouldn’t allow Clementine to spit out. And as long as she didn’t, the rancid, bitter taste would never dull. It’s not like she wanted to hide it from Lee, but what Audrey said was right; he would  _never_  believe her. For all he knew, it was a petty lie she mustered up to get out of being sent to Ericson’s. And she knew Audrey played the victim card so well, it was nothing shy of impossible to let him truly know what was going on.

   A knock at the door brought Clementine back into her surroundings. Expecting it to be Marlon or one of her dorm mates, she uttered an approval just loud enough to be heard.

   “Clementine?” an unfamiliar woman entered, prompting the girl to stand from her bunk. “I’m not sure if you were told, but I’m your guidance counsellor that’s supposed to check in with you,” she gently informed her, closing the door behind her. Her voice was temperate and sobering to the teen’s ears. 

   “Uh, hello,” Clementine managed to greet, clearing her throat.

    “I’m Kate, I work with a lot of the kids here at the school. My job is to help you guys get through whatever you’re going through, I’m all ears.”

   Clementine folded her arms, uncomfortable with looking her in the eyes. Did she really need this? A guidance counsellor? It wasn’t like she was disturbed or plotting an attack on the school. For the most part, she just wanted to be left alone, despite how horrible it felt. All she had to do was what Lee told her and she’d be out of here in no time.

   “Is this really necessary?” the girl asked apprehensively.

   “For your benefit, yeah. We don’t force you to come to your sessions, but we recommend you try it out and make the decision from there,” Kate insisted. Nonetheless, Clementine was riddled with doubts, evident from her uncertain expression. As Kate recognised this, she approached her softly. “One of our most troubled students started his sessions a little over four years ago. He used the tools we gave him to better handle his emotions during stressful situations, and slowly but surely, the improvement came. Now, he’s one of our student body leaders. He told his counsellor it was one of the best things he had ever did for himself,” she explained, gently smiling at her.

   “Then why’s he still here? Doesn’t he get to go home?” Clementine dubiously questioned.

   “His situation is a bit more complicated than that. I can’t tell you his name, guidance counsellors need to keep all private information confidential. Which means whatever you tell me isn’t going to be gossiped around like it might between other kids. Our programs work only if you want them to. And when you do, I have no doubt you’ll be happier with yourself.”

   “What if I already am happy with myself?” Clementine proposed with a brow raise.

   “Then come and see if there’s any room for improvement,” she replied without missing a beat. “Not everyone is aware of what they need to change.”

    But Clementine sure was. Ruminating about it for a moment, she scratched the back of her head skeptically. Even the mere  _thought_  of going to counselling was challenging, but if she didn’t give it a go, then she knew she wasn’t trying her best. That’s all Lee wanted of her. Put into perspective of all the other things she’s done here, the outcome didn’t seem as bad as she might anticipate.

   “So, where do I go?” she eventually asked.

   “My office is in Youth Services. It’s on the second level of the admin building, just down the hall from the Headmaster’s office,” Kate informed the girl. She then reached into her pocket and gave her a pink slip. “This is your session time, Thursdays at four,” she pointed specifically to the bottom of the slip. “That’s an hour after classes finish, so you’ll have time to get a snack, talk to your friends, your dorm mates,” she smiled. “If you ever need to talk to me outside of your session times, my door is always open. My lunch hour is the same as yours, I’m usually in the break room.”

   Clementine nodded as she stared at the bright, pink slip in her hands. She couldn’t imagine herself sitting down in some upholstered chair, talking about how sad her life is and how she couldn’t escape it. Did that mean she wouldn’t go? Well, no. She knew she needed  _someone_  to open up to, so why not a woman who was paid to listen to people whine for a living? It’s not like she had any other options. Like Kate said, if Clementine wanted this to work, all she had to do was want it to.

   “Thanks, I’ll… I’ll be there,” Clementine agreed.


	4. growing pains?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being encouraged by Luke, Clementine battles the fear of the swarming mass of kids in the cafeteria with the help of charming and theatrical Louis. Marlon and Brody not-so-discreetly experience troubles. The kids endure some good-hearted lunch time banter. Kate and Clementine meet for their first counselling session.  
> Warnings: Unintentional starvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank you all so much for the comments and votes. this is actually my first author's note shockingly, i used to make a lot of these with other stories i write. i just wanted to let you know that this is the last pre-written chapter i have, so the next chapters may come out a little slower. i'll try my hardest to write, but things are picking up in my life right now, so it may be a bit of a juggling act. nonetheless, your support inspires me to write! so thank you all for that. see you in the next one. 

**10 APRIL 2003**

  It was during third hour Art History when the hunger cramps began to worsen. Clementine’s vision became choppy and clouded when she didn’t focus on keeping her head up. She drained out the chatter of the surrounding kids as if her ears were full of water. Every little movement or every slight effort she put into any school work became an increasing challenge as time went on. What was her body even running on at this point? Hope?

  “Five more minutes on them short essays, y’all,” her teacher called out from the corner of the room. 

  “Uh—Luke? If we don’t finish these before class, can we do it for homework?” one girl asked.

  “Alright, alright,” he huffed a chuckle, “I know I said no last time, but I’ll let you guys win this one.”

  The class resonated a subtle cheer of relief. Luke quietened the class before roaming around the desks to check on his students. He acted as if he believed it when they suddenly pretended to be deep in thought as soon as he came around. Oldest trick in the book. It wasn’t long ago that he and Nick were in high school pulling the same stunts on his poor sucker of an Art teacher. And, well, along with some other stunts that may or may not have landed them in detention. When he got to Clementine’s desk, he noticed her forehead planted against her table as her blank piece of paper hung loosely off corner. Bending down beside her, he let out a curt sigh.  
  
  “What’s the deal, Clem?” he asked low enough to avoid the gazes of other students.   
  
    “No deal,” she eventually mumbled, her head still resting atop her desk. He rolled his eyes at her blatant denial, standing up from his crouching position.   
  
    “Alright, come on. Come with me,” he instructed, stepping back and hanging his thumbs from his pockets.   
  
    Despite being fairly new to the school compared to the other teachers, Luke had come to realize that soft approaches went a long way with troubled youth. It was essential not to crack under the pressure of a mouthy and disorderly kid; because they ate that shit  _right_   _up_. If you weren’t keeping your cool, then neither was the student, and you’d end up being chased around the courtyard by some rabid farm girl wielding barbecue utensils. Needless to say, Luke was aware that he wasn’t a very fast runner. He knew when to pick his battles.   
  
   Clementine begrudgingly pushed herself out of her seat and as steadily as she could, followed Luke out of the classroom. Students peered up from their papers curiously, whispering intently to their nearby friends about what was going on. Once Luke shut the door, he folded his arms and stared at the girl expectantly. He hadn’t noticed just how intense the dark circles under her eyes had become until now. It was only yesterday that he last saw her in class; sure, she was looking a little tired, but nowhere near as exhausted as this.   
  
   “Clementine,” he addressed her, but she simply continued to stare at the lockers behind him. Her eyelids hung low and barely raised to look at him.  
  
  “Yeah?” she spoke in her dull tone of voice.  
    
  “You’re, uh, lookin’ a little pale. What’s up with that?” he questioned, his brows curving in with worry.  
  
  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Probably ‘cause I haven’t eaten.”  
  
  “Since when?”  
  
  “Uh…” the girl paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing in a haze. “It’s Wednesday, right?”  
  
  “It’s  _Thursday_.”  
  
  “Oh… yeah. I’m seeing that Kate girl today,” she mumbled to herself. “Uh… Tuesday, maybe?”  
  
  “Wh— two  _days?_  You haven’t eaten in two days?” he spouted out as he dropped his arms in dismay.   
  
  “I said  _Tuesday_. Not two days,” she mumbled.  
  
  “Why haven’t you been eatin’, Clem? We’ve got all that health food stuff goin’ on in the cafeteria if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  
  “What? Health foo—? No, I’m just, I’m…” she sighed exhaustively, rubbing her forehead. “I… can’t be around the other kids here, okay? There, I said it. I’m too much of a wimp to go into the cafeteria and face everyone,” she confessed, speaking her words like they were a foreign taste to her mouth. Luke grew worryingly appalled at her self-negligence.  
  
  “That doesn’t mean you gotta starve yourself, Clementine,” Luke firmly insisted. “You have just as much of a right to the cafeteria as anyone else does. Don’t let anybody scare you away.”  
  
  “No, I’m not  _scared_ ,” she emphasised. “No one’s bullied me or whatever, I just can’t go in—at least not on my own,” her top lip curled with displeasure. “They all stare at me ‘cause  _I’m_  the newbie.  _I’m_  the fresh meat. And then my skin starts to get itchy and the walls feel like their closing in, and I just… I have to get away.”   
  
  Luke took a moment to let her breathe. This was somewhat new to him; kids around here  _loved_  the attention – or persevered through it, at the least. He wasn’t quite used to what he was hearing, but it was left to his imagination to wonder what could’ve caused it.    
  
  “Sounds like you’ve got some anxiety, Clem,” he solemnly told her, his arms folding up again.   
  
  “Yeah…” she breathed, before letting out a chaste laugh. “I’m just so fucking hungry,” she continued to giggle. Luke couldn’t help but smile at her sudden humour.   
  
  “Have you made any friends yet?” he asked, earning her shrug.  
  
  “I’m not sure. I know Marlon and Violet, maybe. Sarah, but… she bores me,” she grinned to herself.   
  
  “Right, now all you gotta do is invite them to the cafeteria with you after class,” he told her. “That way, you’re distracted, and being around all these people won’t be as scary as you think.”  
  
  “Not scary,” she reassured him.  
  
  “Right,” he held his hands up in faux defence. “My bad.”   
  
  With concern still laced across her visage, she peered up at her teacher.  
  “Do you think it’ll work?” she questioned.  
  
  “I can’t guarantee it, Clem. But if it all starts to go south, you can find me in the art room, alright? You gotta get some food in ya, it ain’t good to walk around the place like a zombie,” Luke smiled at her, playfully punching her shoulder. Clementine’s lips stretched as she gave him a nod. “And— uh, I can give you until Monday to finish that short essay, too. Just don’t tell the other kids about the extension. Christ. They’ll tear me a new one, alright?”  
  
  Clementine considered Luke’s advice throughout the rest of the period concluding that maybe, just maybe, if she forced herself to talk to someone she knew, then she’d have no other option than to have an actual conversation with them. It happened all the time back in Macon; someone would talk to her, and then they wouldn’t dare to stop. Once she was trapped in communication, she had no means of getting out without breaking Lee’s promise to be good. At least this time, she  _wanted_  to be trapped. It would save herself the pain of walking through that daunting cafeteria alone.   
  
  Clementine undressed her textbooks from her backpack and unloaded them back into her locker. In the midst of tending to her books, the girl spotted Marlon out of the corner of her eye.  _Bingo_. His eyes narrowed in at Brody who trekked beside him, his voice hushed yet caustic. They bickered for a short, aggressive moment before Marlon suddenly halted, pointing his finger forcefully into her chest and cursing at her. Clementine froze as she watched the encounter unfold. Brody’s lip then began to quiver, and with clenched eyes, she pushed past Marlon and trudged down the hall. He stood there, teeth gritted with indignation, watching her disappear into the horde of students. When he locked eyes with Clementine, he swore under his breath, turning away from her and running his hands through his blond, cropped mullet. Instinctively, the girl continued to put her books away, but before she knew it, Marlon had appeared sheepishly by her side.  
  
  “Hey, uh, Clem… I know what you just saw there wasn’t pretty, but uh…” he sighed, running his hands through his hair again. “Christ, I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s just been a bad day. I’ve been losing my cool all morning. It happens, Clem – like it does for everyone, y’know, it’s normal. It happens,” he continued, almost as if it were more than just Clementine he was trying to convince. With wide eyes, she forced a shrug.   
  
  “That’s okay…” she blindly assured him, still befuddled by his unusual behaviour. He then faltered in relief, a grin appearing widely on his face.   
  
  “See, I knew you’d get it, Clem. You’re the best,” he abruptly spurted, quite forcefully patting her on the back. “Hey, I’ll see you in the cafeteria, alright?” he said as he began to jog away from her.   
  
  “Oh, um, yeah… uh—wait, Marlon! Mar—” her hand instinctively reached out in the boy’s direction, but he was too quick to vanish into the crowd of students. “—lon…” she slumped her shoulders. “Fucking asshole,” she grumbled to herself in frustration, staring back into her abyss-like locker.  
  
   _Shit, someone else really needs to come along…  
_  
  Clementine began to contemplate the thought of going into the cafeteria alone. Would it be dreadful? Absolutely. But was it going to kill her? Maybe not. What  _was_ going to kill her was not giving her body something to run on, something she so desperately wished she would just hurry up and do already. Heeding her hopeless call, a grinning figure had slid into her peripheral vision, causing her stare to deadpan.  
  
  Louis.  
  
   _Goddamn it, anyone else?  
  
_   “Clementine! Just the person I wanted to see,” he cheered, leaning against the lockers beside her.  
  
  “I feel sorry for you, then,” she responded, shutting her locker and cruising down the hall.   
  
  “Oh, don’t be so harsh on yourself. Everyone new kid deserves some accompaniment during their first few days,” he assured her as he followed her around the corner. Was God toying with her at this point?  
  
  “Haven’t you heard? Chivalry is dead,” she retorted.  
  
  “Well, what about friendship? Is friendship dead?”   
  
  “Along with puppies and rainbows, dead as dead can be,” she smirked.  
  
  “You know, it kinda freaks me out that death is the only subject I’ve seen you smile about,” he jokingly confessed as they entered the cafeteria. “How about we stop talking about death and talk a little more about  _you_.”  
  
  Clementine noticed the incoming stares from the mounds of students sitting by tables upon tables in the room.  _Why does it have to be so big?_  Dread began to dawn on her, almost as if a rug had been pulled out from right under her feet.  _Fine, Louis will have to do. Just keep talking to him and you’ll be fine.  
_  
  “Sounds like the same thing to me,” she quipped, steadying her pace to the stack of trays near the lunch line.   
  
  “So, what are you in for?” he grinned at her, swooping up one of the plastic, red lunch trays and handing it to her. “Petty theft? Grand theft auto? Unloving to thy neighbour or, dare I say, dishonour to thy parents?” he gasped, pressing his hand against his chest as she let out a confused laugh.   
  
  “Are you always like this?” she questioned, stepping into the lunch line.  
  
  “Like what?”  
  
  “So witty,” she replied, “like you’re performing a scene or about to break out in song.”   
  
  He huffed at her.  
  
  “I think you mean  _charming_  and  _theatrical_ ,” his grin widened as he leaned against the bench. “And it made you laugh, didn’t it?”    
    
  “…Yeah, yeah it did.” Clementine stared at the ground, a huff of air coming from her nose.   
  
  “Then why question it?” he curiously queried, moving up in the line as it stiffy jolted forward. Clementine shrugged.  
  
  “Never seen anything like it,” she shook her head. “It’s… refreshing, I’ll give you that.”  
  
  “Hallelujah! She’s optimistic,” he spoke jokingly to a third person, nudging the girl once again. “So really, why  _are_  you here? If it’s not too much to ask, that is.”   
  
  She shrugged.   
  
  “Well, why are you?” the girl countered as she peered back at him. “I can’t see  _you_ committing grand theft auto.”   
  
  He suddenly chuffed out a laugh.  
  
  “Well  _maybe_  if I actually focused in my classes, I would know how to hot wire a car,” he replied with a roll of his eyes.   
  
  “I don’t think they’d teach that at a school for troubled youth,” she grinned, raising her tray and passing it to the lunch lady. “Unless I’m interpreting the name wrong.”  
  
  “You’re right. Ericson’s too boring to let any of that into the curriculum,” he declared.  
  
  “Then?” she pressed, anticipating his response as he paused for a moment.  
  
  “I didn’t do my school work. I… ran amok throughout middle school, did some pranks that went  _maybe_  a little too far, really gave the teachers a hard time. My parents ignored that for the most part. But I wanted to… do things, with music,” he told her, placing his tray on the counter. “That, they didn’t ignore – my  _dad_  didn’t ignore,” he admitted. Louis’ expression quickly became unreadable to her, stoic if anything, as he stared at the ground beside him. The optimism he oozed no longer flowed in that moment, but kick-started up again once he finally grinned. “Which is ironic, really, considering he unknowingly sent me to a boarding school with a music program and a piano that I can use pretty much whenever I  _want_ ,” he beamed with satisfaction. Clementine shook her head of the confusion, regaining her dull smile.  
  
  “Now, all of that I can see you doing. Not robbery or gang wars…” she huffed through a chuckle, her eyes observing him up and down. “God knows you wouldn’t last in a fight.”  
  
  “Who, me? In a fight?” he incredulously exclaimed. “If this is how you laugh at me in the lunch line, I couldn’t imagine what you’d be like while I’m getting my ass kicked,” he jived, earning yet another laugh out of her as they moved up in the line. “Now it’s your turn, Clem. And don’t try to get out of it – I wanna know  _all_  the gritty details. All of them.”  
  
  Clementine shrugged, letting out an exhale as she retrieved her now full lunch tray.   
  
  “Pissed off the foster mom. Smoking, skipping class, staying out past curfew, sneaking out  _after_  curfew…”   
  
  Louis’ brows raised in faux surprise.  
  
  “Quite hard hitting stuff,” he joked, grabbing his lunch tray and moving aside with her. “No drugs?”   
  
  “Well… weed once, but…” Clementine paused, shaking her head with embarrassment. “I got so anxious that I threw up on the sofa and we had to get a new one,” she admitted.  
  
  “Ooh,” he cringed. “Alcohol?” he further probed, earning her shrug.  
  
  “Never had a friend to drink with.”  
  
  “… _Murder?_ ” he raised his brows expectantly, an idiotic, amusable grin plaguing his face. She leaned in.  
  
  “Why do you think I’m here?” she jokingly whispered, raising a brow at him ominously.  
  
  “Welp, you sound like a totally average troubled youth to me, Clementine,” he revealed. “So, where are we sitting?”   
  
  The girl suddenly stared at him.  
  
  “You’re sitting with me?” she bluntly questioned.  
  
  “Do you not want me to?” his voice quietened, brows furrowing in a slight confusion as he scratched the back of his head. “Marlon was talking about how he hadn’t seen you step foot in the cafeteria, so I figured you were just grabbing your food and getting out of here as fast as you can.”  
  
   _Yeah, try not eating.  
_  
  Clementine paused, it was odd seeing Louis completely drop the eccentricity she had grown so expectant of. She didn’t know he even had the ability to be serious or feel some sort of negative emotion; this whole time he was just soaking up all her insults and brush-aways with no more than a cheerful witticism. In that odd, unexpected moment, Louis didn’t feel a walking stand-up act, it was like he was a real kid.  
  
  “Why’re you being nice to me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with perplexity. “All I’ve done is be a jerk to you and you just stick around?”   
  
  Louis shrugged nonchalantly, as if her sudden questioning didn’t completely take him aback as much as it did.  
  
  “‘Cause you don’t seem that bad, Clementine. Sure, you look mean. And you  _are_ mean. But everyone here is mean. Well, to me at least,” he rolled his eyes. “If I hadn’t stuck around for the rest of the conversation, then neither would you. And where’s the fun in that?” he grinned. “Oh, and I also got to learn you hurled on your parents’ sofa, and that’s  _definitely_  something I can make fun of you for in the future.”   
  
  Clementine shook her head, an inescapable smile overwhelming her face.  
  
  “Great, can’t wait to experience that, uh… fun experience,” she playfully rolled her eyes.  
  
  “And you wanna know something else?” he asked in an almost serious tone, leaning in to get closer to her. “I like a challenge,” he quietly admitted, offering a modest shrug afterwards. But before he could reel himself back, Clementine had also leaned in, brows raised alongside her smile.  
  
  “That doesn’t sound creepy at all,” she whispered, echoing her previous words.   
  
  “Louis! Clementine!”   
  
  Louis peered over Clementine’s shoulder to the table inhabited by his friends, noticing Violet signal him over. He then leaned back and glanced down at her.  
  
  “I think that’s your invitation to the cool kids club,” he smirked at her. “But we spell ‘kids’ with a Z at the end because, you know. We’re cool like that,” he breezily shrugged.  
  
  “Creepy to childish in only ten seconds flat. You really are theatrical, aren’t you?” she teased as he made his way past her.  
  
  “You bet. Now are you coming or not?” Louis called to her, gesturing his head towards the table.   
  
  In the middle of the cafeteria sat a somewhat settled table of Marlon, Violet, Minerva, and a few other kids she had seen around. What stood between them and her were the crowds of blaringly loud and rowdy students. But as she glanced down at her tray, she figured there wasn’t anywhere else she could eat. Dormitory? Hallway? Bathroom, like the miserable loser in every high school movie? She managed to get this far into the cafeteria despite her almost crippling self-doubt. Louis had coaxed her right into the horde of students and she had barely been aware of it until now. So, all she had to do now was sit down and eat with him, and who was a better distraction than, well, Louis?   
  
  Clementine eventually approached an awaiting Louis, delivering an aloof shrug before they took off to his table of friends. She mimicked his weaving through the tables of students and before she knew it, had made it to the table without a scratch.   
  
  “Everyone,” Louis began, “this is some totally random girl I found roaming outside the school. No, she doesn’t have a name. Yes, I do consider myself a good Samaritan for bringing her in, but it’s also  _your_  responsibility to make her feel welcomed. I don’t know if she speaks English, though. So, uh, try using  _small_  words as to not freak her out.”  
  
  Clementine grimaced at the grinning boy beside her.  
  
  “Shut up, Louis,” Violet rolled her eyes. “Guys, this is Clementine, the new girl in our dorm… Sorry you had the misfortune of meeting him,” she said, directing her narrowed eyes at Louis.  
  
  “Your words truly hurt me, Violet,” he responded, planting his hand against his heart.  
  
  “I’ve tuned him out at this point,” Clementine smirked, taking a seat across from Minerva. “Hey, Minnie.”  
  
  The girl stared at Clementine with exhaustion in her expression, triggering a laugh from Louis as he sat beside her.   
  
  “Oh, this is Sophie,” Violet corrected.  
  
  “Huh?” Clementine examined the red head in front of her in confusion.  
  
  “Minerva’s twin, Sophie,” the girl affirmed.   
  
  “Oh,” Clementine blinked. “Sorry about that.”   
  
  “It happens. I should just get a new haircut already,” Sophie timidly shrugged.   
  
  “And I’m Aasim, the guy who got you out in dodgeball yesterday,” a boy from beside Violet introduced himself. “I gotta say, that was a pretty intense game you played there.”  
  
  “That was a pretty intense throw,” Clementine shook her head in a slight astonishment.   
  
  “Yeah, well, you’re welcome for that,” he huffed jokingly. “It’s a shame you got distracted, though. Rookie mistake,” he smirked, prompting Clementine to raise a brow at him.  
  
  “Um, hey idiot? You  _also_  got distracted,” Violet countered as she leaned into Aasim’s view, triggering a snort of laughter from Sophie.  
  
  “Ouch, Aasim,” Louis grinned. “If I wasn’t mistaken, it seems like Violet’s coming for your athletically inclined throne,” he teased.  
  
  “Dude, shut up,” Aasim sighed frustratedly.   
  
  “Aasim’s just mad I beat his face in with a dodgeball in front of the new girl,” Violet badgered tauntingly, smirking in satisfaction at her friend. Aasim rolled his eyes.  
  
  “I can assure you that the new girl is the least of my worries,” he blatantly replied, twiddling his plastic spork into the peas on his tray.  
  
  “Uh, right here,” Clementine casually waved her hand.  
  
  “Whatever you say, Aasim,” Violet grinned again, leaning back into her seat. She went back to eating her food, as Aasim rolled his eyes yet again, allowing a silence to settle in.  
  
  “Um… great!” Louis perked up. “Now that that awkward encounter is over with, we can start getting into the real business. Marlon, how’s the baseball team looking for next year? We got all our players coming back?” he asked, leaning over his tray to see his friend. With his question unengaged, he watched as his Marlon stared sourly at the table in front of him. “ _Hellooo?_  Earth to Marlon?” he called out. “Marlon!”  
  
  “Fucking what, Louis?!” Marlon flickered his gaze to Louis, reeling himself back into reality.  
  
  “The baseball team?”  
  
  “What about it?” he questioned, irritated.  
  
  “…I asked how’s it looking?” Louis repeated. “Does everyone wanna come back for the next season?”   
  
  Marlon shrugged his friend off dismissively, swatting his hand as he stood up from his seat.  
  
  “Christ, Lou. Just—” he cut himself off, clenching his eyes shut as he began to breathe heavily.   
  
  Clementine skeptically watched as he mumbled through his gritted teeth. What was there to get so worked up about? Sure, Louis was annoying, but it wasn’t the  _annoying_ -type of annoying. Everyone on the table had gone silent at Marlon’s fit, watching him as he rubbed his forehead and tried to calm himself down. Clementine eyed Louis as he suddenly clicked into action, pushing his tray forward.   
  
  “Hey, let’s go get some air, alright, buddy?” Louis lowly insisted, standing from his seat with furrowed brows. Marlon eventually nodded in agreement, allowing his friend to walk around the table and guide him out of the cafeteria. “I’ll catch you guys later.”  
  
  Clementine’s brows curved in perplexity. She totally forgot Marlon was even on the table before Louis started speaking to him. Whatever was eating away at him was starting to break down his mellow, easy-going façade. It was possible that today wasn’t his day, like he said. And he didn’t seem like a bad person, but she suspected something was a little off about Marlon.   
  
  “That happen often?” Clementine asked, looking to the others.   
  
  “Ehh, no… not as much as it used to,” Violet sighed.   
  
  “So I’ve heard,” Sophie mumbled.  
  
  “I’m sorry, y’know, that you gotta see him like this,” Violet continued. “He’s not usually like that anymore. He knows how to get a handle on his shit now.”  
  
  “Yeah, you should’ve seen him when he first got here,” Aasim exclaimed. “That was nothing compared to how he was back then.”  
  
  “That doesn’t sound like something I should take lightly,” Clementine warned him.  
  
  “Marlon’s fine, he just… he’s still got some shit to work through,” Violet solemnly replied, looking away from her. “We all do.”  
  
  Lunch eventually continued without any bumps in the road of conversation. They talked about the dodgeball game, the group’s more musical members, like Louis and Minerva, and bantered until Aasim had to report to his detention, leaving the girls to sit and talk for the rest of the hour. But after the incident that transpired in the cafeteria, Clementine couldn’t help but find Marlon just a bit more amusing than he originally was. Well, as much as she could in between scarfing down her food. When you’re running solely on weird-tasting water from the drink fountains, subpar cafeteria grub never tasted so good. Initially, Marlon’s unusual calmness for a “troubled youth” was a little unsettling at first. Was she scared of him? No. His pushiness with Brody was alarming, but it wasn’t something Clementine’s skin crawled at the sight of. However, as it seemed he had trouble with keeping his emotions at bay, could she relate to him a little? More than ever.   
  
  Classes finished and four o’clock eventually rolled around. Clementine was in her therapy session, or as she dubbed it, her ‘sit and complain’ session, and couldn’t seem to get a serious word out.   
  
  “So, Clementine. How would you describe your stay at Ericson’s so far?” Kate questioned, pen ready in hand as she sat across from the girl.   
  
  Clementine breathed through her nose, slumping her shoulders ever so slightly as she stared out the window.   
  
   _Strange_.  
  
  “Like home,” she sarcastically replied, glancing back to Kate.   
  
  The older woman pressed her pen on her notepad to write before halting, peering back up at Clementine, and withdrawing it.   
  
  “If you’re uncomfortable with opening up, Clementine, you’re more than welcome to ask me questions,” she insisted.  
  
  “Sure,” the girl raised her brows, amused. “Do we make boring recipes in all the Home Ec. classes?” she taunted.  
  
  Kate repressed her urge to deadpan with a tight smile.  
  
  “What do you find boring, Clementine?” she questioned.   
  
  “What’s boring to me? Um… let’s see…” she tapped her finger on her knee idly. “Uh, waiting in line… day time soap operas, totalitarianism… the guy who reads out the winning lotto numbers—”  
  
  “I meant in your Home Economics class, or at Ericson’s in general, maybe?” she clarified.   
  
  Clementine turned to stare out the window again, unwilling yet eager to give her a serious answer. Maybe  _she_  was the oxymoron here. She had been stringing Kate along for the last twenty-five minutes now, seemingly unable to get anything of substance out. She had to try, she knew that. But the execution was the messy part.   
  
  “Do you find the school boring, Clementine?” Kate further questioned, reading the girl’s softened expression. “It’s okay if you find it boring, lots of kids here—”  
  
  “Strange,” the girl interrupted. “I find it strange,” she forced out as she crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
  “Why’s that?” she pressed, earning a shrug from her.  
  
  “Maybe because…” she paused, her uncomfortable gaze shifting to another window. “I’m… not in control.”  
  
  Kate’s brows raised slightly.  
  
  “Did you have control at home?”  
  
  “…I- I felt like I did, for the most part,” Clementine hesitantly replied. “I did what I wanted, when I wanted… Lee would get mad at me, but at least I knew what to expect. A grounding, a lecture, an argument. He was the dad and I was the trouble making kid. Here? I don’t know what I am when I’m here. I don’t know what everyone else is like.”  
  
  Kate cleared her throat.  
  
  “It sounds like you’re familiar with relationship dynamics. Certain roles that people play in your life,” she commented, lifting her pen from her notepad. “Do you always refer to your father by his name?”   
  
  “He’s my foster father,” she corrected.   
  
  “Ah, and how do you feel about him?”  
  
  “Lee? Lee’s… great. He’s a little naïve, maybe optimistic is the word… but I know he tries. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to take care of me than him,” she began to smile, before it ultimately faded. “There’s lots of foster kids out there who get sent to bad families. You know, where horrible things happen to them, and it screws them up… I just know I’m lucky to have ended up with someone as supportive and caring as… Lee,” she admitted, before letting out a huff. “Saying all of this kinda makes me realize just how much I take him for granted… which happens to be a lot,” she rolled her eyes at herself.  
  
  “It sounds like you adore him,” Kate observed. “So, how would you say you take him for granted?”  
  
  Clementine shook her head.  
  
  “By not listening to what he says,” she replied. “Sneaking out, getting into fights, coming home smelling like cigarettes, arguing with Audrey…” she began to wince, “having my music up too loud, not doing my laundry, not changing the dog’s water bowl…” she recounted, staring at the ground in front of her. “I… I sit here, and I say all of this, and I can’t… for the life of me, figure out how I’ve done all this to him when all he’s ever done is take care of me,” she spoke incredulously. “I—I do that, I keep pushing people away when they help me. I don’t want to, but it just happens and happens and happens and I can’t stop,” Clementine breathed, clutching the arm rest of her seat intensely.   
  
  Kate watched as she poured out to her, brows furrowed in sympathy.   
  
  “I’d like to ask you something,” Kate spoke gently, crossing her leg over the other. “Do you feel deserving of the kindness people give to you? Perhaps, that Lee gives to you?” she questioned.  
  
  “I… I don’t think I do,” she confessed. “Lee thinks I’m a good person,” she scoffed, “he thinks I deserve it. I think he just still sees me as the kid I was when he first adopted me.”  
  
  “Well, how would you describe your younger self?”  
  
  “Young…” she replied, before shaking her head. “Sorry, that was stupid. Of course I was young. Uh…” she paused for a moment. “Naïve… small…” she continued. “Trying… I was trying.”  
  
  “To?” Kate pressed, earning a shrug from the girl.   
  
  “Adjust,” she responded before sighing. “New family, new parents…”   
Clementine stared at the ground again, her brows curving in. “Lee can’t have children. But I think he wanted to turn that into something good, so he adopted instead. Or maybe he was lonely, I don’t know.”  
  
  “What was it like when you first moved in with your new family?”  
  
  “Heh… rough. I was scared, but Lee kept encouraging me to be brave. He’s good like that,” she grinned to herself. “I adjusted eventually and life was better. They hugged me a lot, they took me places… it was like I was hanging out with my cool uncle and aunt every day. It was good. Better, better than what it is now,” her voice quietened, her head lowering as her brows furrowed.    
  
  “You keep saying ‘they’, I assume Lee is married?” she asked.  
  
  “Yeah, her name’s Audrey,” Clementine answered, her eyes narrowing at the ground. “She did all that stuff with me too. She was… a good mom,” she frowned, fiddling with her thumbs. “But things got harder and she changed. And because of that… now I’m here.”   
  
  Kate cleared her throat, her eyes incidentally snapping towards the clock behind Clementine. As interested as she was in finding out who the girl is, their session had come to an end. After verbalising what had been stuck in her head for years, Clementine felt a little lighter than she was when she entered the room. Kate didn’t judge her, her face didn’t contort with disgust, all she did was ask the questions and let the ball roll on its own. Clementine didn’t feel like a whiny child as she expected, it all so organically fell out of her mouth that it was actually revitalizing to somewhat clear her mind.   
  
  “Well, with what we’ve discussed this session, I think it’s safe to say you’re a little lost, Clementine,” Kate insisted. “However, you aren’t the only kid who’s walked into a boarding school and felt out of place. It’s completely normal to wonder where you fit into a society. My main point being, you aren’t alone. It also seems like you need to view yourself in a more encouraging light. You described your younger self as ‘trying’, but I really do believe that applies to your current self as well. You are trying, Clementine. You’re trying to navigate through your situation as well as you can. We’ve all done things we regret, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Feeling regretful in the first place is the first step to changing your behaviour, it shows that you’ve come to understand what should or shouldn’t be done in certain situations. Whether you believe you’re a good person or not, everyone who understands that what they’ve done is wrong deserves the kindness to help change how they go about things in the future – how they communicate. So,” Kate stood up from her chair, “I want you to really think about how you can embrace the ways in which people help you, and what benefits it can have for you and the others around you. And I’ll see you in our session again next Thursday.”  
  
  “Alright,” Clementine nodded as she stood up. “That’s… easy, I guess. I can do that.”  
  
  “Good luck,” Kate smiled as she opened the door for Clementine, allowing the girl out. “Mitch, come on in,” she heard the woman say, watching a boy stand from the sofa as she walked past.


	5. the helping hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clementine unexpectedly finds common ground with cold-shouldered Violet, Home Economics goes awry for Clementine and Louis, and the gang pulls Clementine out of a night of boredom for a puke-filled, authority sticking adventure.   
> Warnings: Uh, puke? Puke. Louis also gets hurt in a completely ridiculous way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! as i previously said in the last chapter, things have been picking up for me so i don't have much time to write : ( i'm not sure when the next chapter will be out after this, but this one was originally going to be longer until i realised i had to split it in half. about a little less than half of the next chapter has been written, so i have at least something. nonetheless, please enjoy this chapter! i'll try to update as soon as i can. <3

**11 APRIL 2003**

  “Morning.”

   Clementine groggily shifted her head to look for the voice beside her. A P.E. uniform clad Violet sat on the edge of her bunk, grin warm and tying the laces of her Chuck Taylor’s. Gleaming yellow rays shone through the barred windows and settled upon her face, illuminating the ocean green in her eyes. Above her laid Sarah sound asleep on her bunk, her rose-coloured frames sitting on the wall shelf just above her head. 

    She sheepishly propped herself up on her elbows, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Hey,” she greeted back.

  “You woke up in time for breakfast,” Violet informed her, standing from her bunk. “I was going to meet Minnie over there. If you want, I can wait for you to get ready.”

   Violet was… brusque, to put it formally. She gave the impression that she was blunt, yet humble. She described herself to be ‘not a people person’ during yesterday’s lunch hour. But as much as they may be true, Clementine noticed that she put in at least some effort to fix that. Of all the ways Violet characterized herself, Clementine was yet to experience it. She was yet another example of trying to correct one’s self, an example she knew she had to follow. 

  “Sure,” Clementine nodded, pulling the sheets off herself. “Give me a sec’.”

  Violet waited in the hall for Clementine to get dressed and brush her teeth in the bathrooms beside their dorm. Once she was finished, they trekked through the dormitories and eventually out into the courtyard.

  “I, uh, hope you weren’t too freaked out by what happened yesterday. With Marlon,” Violet scratched the back of her head. “He’s a good tour guide and stuff. We both came here in sixth grade, so as we got older, they usually paired us together to show kids around. I, uh, lost my patience with the shitty ones pretty often, but he still kept his cool with them. I guess that’s why he’s Head of Sophomores, huh,” she sheepishly grinned, pulling open the doors to the classroom building. 

  “He sure did keep his cool with me,” Clementine responded as they entered. “Can’t say the same for Brody.”

  “Oh, they fight all the time. It’s nothing new. It’s just annoying for everyone around them,” she rolled her eyes. “Brody can be snappy and Marlon can have his bad days. The two of those combined is just a bomb waiting to go off. But I guess they have their good moments too.”

  “Yeah…” Clementine nodded, her brows furrowing. “Sticking around someone that makes you so angry, and for so long, isn’t going to end up well.”

  The pair then entered the quiet cafeteria. Violet peered around in search of her girlfriend, but figured she was a little late when her ginger hair was nowhere to be seen. There wasn’t as many kids in the room like there was during lunch and dinner, however it was just enough to form a mild anxiousness in Clementine. 

  “Uh… s-so, the books in the, um, library,” Clementine jitterily spoke, scratching the back of her head. “They’re all… lame, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, totally,” she swatted her hand as they headed for the breakfast line. “They filled the library with corny love novels or boring positivity books to ‘help bolster morale!’” she raised the pitch of her tone before scoffing, shaking her head as she grabbed a bowl from the stack. “It’s fucking stupid. You know? We’re kids. Not middled-aged, stay-at-home moms with children to neglect. Where’s the comic books? The action novels? True crime? Fantasy?”

  “I take it you really like your books,” Clementine smiled, also grabbing a bowl.

  “Not anymore,” Violet shook her head with a frown. “Not with this garbage on the shelves. Sarah let me borrow some book about trans-dimensional body snatchers, but that was the last good thing I read here. Do you, um, read too?”

  “Of course,” Clementine smirked at her almost condescendingly. “When I was little, I couldn’t stop.”

  Violet smiled at her nostalgic affection of the pages.

  “What kind of stuff do you read?” she asked.

  “Have you heard of  _Caucasia_?” Clementine questioned, shifting up the line.

  “Sounds like what the KKK wants to rename America,” Violet grinned.

  “Close,” the girl giggled. “It’s a book set during the civil rights movement in Boston. Around the seventies,” she replied. “My dad’s a civil history professor up at UGA. So, he’s got a lot of the civil rights history stuff. He’s really into historical fiction, so that meant I was too,” she shrugged. “ _Caucasia_  is one of my favourites. It’s about a girl named Birdie who’s half-cast, like, mixed race. Her father’s black and her mom’s white. She has an older sister, too, named Cole—”

  “Can’t imagine that going down well in the seventies,” Violet quipped under her breath.

  “Well, their parents split up and her dad moves away with her older sister because she’s the darker daughter. All the while Birdie and her mom are on the run from the FBI. Her mom thinks they want her for terrorist activities, but it turns out that she’s just really paranoid, so it’s mostly bullshit. So by the end of the book, Birdie finds her father and he tells her about all his theories on race, and he tells her about how defining people by race is just a concept – that race isn’t real. So Birdie loses her shit. And she tells him that if race wasn’t real, he wouldn’t have left her with her mom. That he would have taken both his daughters, and not just one because she had darker skin,” she explained, handing her bowl to the lunch lady as she cleared her throat. “That’s… the kind I read.”

  “Holy shit,” Violet’s mouth hung slightly agape. “I’m just into fantasy, you know, dragons and warriors and shit. But that sounds really damn cool. It might be in the library, I’ve gotta check it out—"

  “It’s not,” Clementine sighed. “All I found were cook books in the wrong section.”

  “Damn,” she muttered under her breath, staring at the counter in front of her.

  “Your food,” the lunch lady clicked her fingers in front of Violet’s face. Her almost grimacing upper lip snagged the attention of the girl, as did the unsightly strands of hair above it. 

  Violet grabbed her bowl as the other lunch lady handed Clementine hers. As they retreated to one of the tables, Clementine wondered if Lee was up for another trip to Virginia. She hadn’t read  _Caucasia_  in a so long, not after the whole Audrey debacle. Bringing it here would mean Violet could read it too, and what said ‘friendly gesture’ more than satisfying her fictional needs?

  Violet glanced behind her shoulder for the sight of Minerva, but still couldn’t see her. It was unusual for her to be late, she even said she wanted to talk. It sounded important, yet she didn’t seem to take it as seriously as Violet did.

  “I, uh, my favourite book is this cool fantasy novel,” Violet picked up conversation again. “A Game of Thrones. It’s pretty long. I used to read it a lot but I gave it to Minnie not long ago. She said she wanted to read it but, uh… I don’t know if she has.”

  “Well if she hasn’t, why don’t you ask for it back?” Clementine suggested, dipping her spoon into her cereal. 

_Looks like cardboard._

  “I don’t know,” Violet barely shrugged. “I want her to read it. Then we could talk about it and stuff. Every time I ask if she’s read it, she says she’ll get around to it and that she’s sorry. I mean, I get it. Homework, extracurricular, she jams with Louis, too. She’s busy.”

  “That’s… fair,” Clementine mumbled, unsure of what to respond. “What other books do you like?” she asked, scooping the cereal into her mouth.

   _Tastes like it, too._

  As breakfast rolled on, Minerva was no where to be seen. The girls spoke about their beloved books and the memories that came with them all throughout breakfast and their morning gym class. It was an odd yet relieving feeling to finally have a conversation worth its substance. Clementine felt no need to spew witty remarks or shrug the girl off – unlike anyone before, Violet was quickly becoming someone of value to her. But as the conversation went on, she noticed the worry that liked to etch onto Violet’s face in their moments of brief silence. She knew it was over Minerva, but nonetheless it was something she was all too familiar with. Those little, barely recognisable moments of the cold touch of doubt pressing on the flat of your forehead. You felt worried, but your expression had to morph back to the aloofness you’ve come to uphold. It was why Clementine wanted to talk so badly, so those that doubt didn’t creep back in to curse Violet. So she could take Violet away from her concerns with the memories of her favourite literature. It didn’t just help her, it helped Clementine too.

* * *

  “So, what do you guys find most comforting in the morning just after you’ve woken up?” Walter questioned, his eyes scanning across the classroom. “Therissa?”

  “Hmm… those cartoons they air really early in the morning?” she answered with an unsure twitch in her eye.

  “Wonderful answer. I’m sure it hits home to a lot of people here,” Walter gleefully replied. “How about you, Lamar?”

  “Shit, video games of course,” he chuckled. “Booting up the PlayStation, throwing on some Final Fantasy—”

  “Final Fantasy?” a kid beside him scoffed.

  “Yeah, what of it? It’s a good—”

  “Uh, how about you, Clementine?” Walter hurriedly shifted the focus. “What comforts you in the morning?” 

  Clementine shrugged, her eyes travelling upwards as she thought.

  “Just… being able to lay there, I guess.”

  “Ah, I see. No where to be, no responsibilities to take care of,” her teacher nodded. “I bet we all love the feeling of waking up, looking at our alarm clocks, and rolling back over, huh?” he asked, earning a collective agreement from the class. “What I loved best about sleeping in on the weekends was that my mom made breakfast no matter who was around to eat it. Even when we’d wake up at ten in the morning, food was always on the table. And every Saturday, my mother used to make her amazing pancakes from scratch, without fail. And I’ll tell ya,” he grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, “those were the best damn pancakes I’ve ever eaten. So, we’re going to make them today with my mom’s own recipe. Find your partner, find a stove, and let’s get to it.”

  Pancakes?  _Pancakes?_  Clementine figured Walter liked the simple things in life, but could this class get anymore boring? If it weren’t for the actual cooking aspect, she would have swapped into Government Economics days ago. What was worse was finding a partner – everyone already  _had_  their partners, they had been in this class almost the entire year. Of course Lee just had to send her here towards the end of it. Walter insisted that she could work with him, but who wanted to be the lame, weird kid who hangs around the teacher? Not her. So, for the last couple of classes, she found a stove in the back corner and went to work on her own. And it was going to be like that for the rest of these long, miserable eight weeks. 

  Or so she thought.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to be working all by yourself  _again?_ ” Louis exclaimed, leaning his hand on Clementine’s desk as the other perched on his hip. 

  “It’s not such a catastrophe,” she responded through a huff, standing from her seat. 

  “That may be true, but behind every good cook is a not so good assistant that can’t tell the difference between sugar and salt. And  _I’m_  that assistant,” he replied, following her as she walked over to her stove. Sighing, she halted at her station and turned to him.

  “Your point?” she crossed her arms expectantly.

  “My point  _being_ , that I’m a catch. And I should totally be your cooking partner,” he grinned, planting his hands proudly on his hips. 

  Before Clementine could rip right into Louis’ unamusing confidence, she stopped herself and took a moment to re-evaluate the situation.  _Okay, Louis wants to help you. Kate says you should let people help. So be nice to him, and say yes._

“Absolutely not,” she replied as she pulled out a frying pan.

  “Oh, actually, I—um, I kind of need to be,” he admitted through a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Omar is usually my partner, but he’s working alone this lesson ‘cause of… me royally screwing up last class,” he began to grin. 

  “That’s where the salt came in, right?” she curiously raised a brow at him, twisting the knob for the stove and placing the pan on top. She waited for it to heat up.

  “Heh, best tasting cookies you’ll ever have?” he hesitantly chuckled as she moved past him to grab a recipe from a wandering Walter. “Alright, so I’m not that great a cook…” he admitted, his lips contorting into a frown.

  As Clementine grabbed a recipe sheet from Walter, Kate’s words continued to nip at her. What was  _really_  going to happen if she let him join her, anyway? It felt like the world would end if she gave in, but why? How could some wannabe musician concave the universe? Maybe something good will come out of this like Kate said – and she couldn’t afford to miss that opportunity. 

  Sighing, Clementine turned around and approached him. She held the sheet out to him and shrugged as she forced herself to give into his persistence. 

  “I’m not such a great cook either,” she confessed, gesturing with her eyes for him to take the sheet. Louis smiled, plucking the paper from her hand. 

  “Good news, we can be the worst together,” he declared, retrieving a dull smile from her.

  “Fine, except  _I’m_  getting the ingredients,” she dictated. “We’re awful, but we know the difference between salt and sugar, okay?”

  “Alright, I see you,” he nodded.

  “Read out the list,” she instructed, bending down and opening the cupboard of measuring equipment.

  Louis lifted the sheet closer to his gaze and rested his hip against the oven.

  “The prophecy calls for… two cups of flour, two eggs, half a tablespoon of  _sugar_ —not salt,“ he looked up to smirk at her. “A teaspoon of vanilla extract, fifty grams of melted butter, one cup of milk—wait, so do we use normal cups to measure all this? Because I feel like I’ve got that tremendously wrong.”

  “You’ve been in this class for a whole year, how do you not know what a measuring cup is?” she grimaced at him, lifting one of the measuring cups out of the cupboard. “We use these.”

  “Really? Damn it! I wanted to use our regular ol’ coffee mugs,” he sarcastically replied, unknowingly leaning his hand on the now scalding, hot pan. “You kn— _hnng!_ ” Louis instinctively jumped, retracting his hand as he screamed in agony. 

  “What the—” Clementine shot up from the ground. “Oh, shit—”

  “Holy— _urgh,_  seriously?!” he groaned, gripping his hand intensely as he glared at the frying pan. Students began to suddenly direct their attention towards the commotion in the back corner.

  “Fuck, is it bad?!” she darted over to him. 

  “No, it feels like a  _nice_  breeze on a  _cool_  autumn—  _Ow, ow, ow!_ ” he winced as she unravelled his clenched fist to reveal his red, raw palm. 

  Clementine hastily yanked his wrist and led him to the sink. Her hand flipped on the cold water and held Louis’ under the running tap. 

  “What the hell, Louis?!” she exclaimed after a moment. 

  “Wh— Do you really think I did that on purpose?!” he asked her incredulously, his voice breaking.

  “It was right next to you! The hot pan was  _right_  next to you!” she glared up at him.

  “I think we already established I’m not the smartest person when it comes to cooking!”

  “What happened?” Walter worriedly asked as he rushed over, leaning over the sink to witness the damage. Clementine stared at Louis expectantly.

  “Tell him,” she raised a condescending brow.

  “I, uh… put my hand on the frying pan,” he reluctantly responded through his pain, earning Walter’s bewildered gaze.

  “On  _purpose?_ ”

  “ _Why_  would I do that on purpose?”

  As Walter observed the boy’s stinging palm, his eyes widened with concern.

  “Clementine, you need to get him to the nurse,” he instructed.

  “Is it that bad?” she asked, averting her eyes to the man.

  “Uh—actually— you know what,” Louis began to nervously giggle. “It’s really not that bad,” he protested.

  “I’m not taking the risk here, son,” Walter declared as he turned off the tap. “Take him down to Ms Martin. I’ll put everything on your station away.”

  Clementine deadpanned at Louis as he gave her an awkward smile. Sure, pancakes were boring… but they were still better than lame health food. 

  In some sort of a hurry, Clementine yanked the boy out of the classroom and back into the courtyard to the administration building. For the first time in three days, and probably due to the immense pain in his palm, Louis was finally silent for longer than a heartbeat. Although burning his hand already wielded the result of silence, Clementine liked the notion of losing his tongue better. That way, he couldn’t crack a lame joke ever again. Once they got to the nurse’s office, Clementine knocked on the door and finally let go of Louis’ wrist. The pair waltzed into the sterilized office like a couple of uncoordinated toddlers.

  “Oh lord, what is it this time, Mr Scott?” Ms Martin questioned, a sigh of content soon following as she stood from her office chair. The nurse frowned at Louis as if he were a poor, unfortunate soul who was just absolutely tortured… or she pitied him for always getting himself hurt one way or another.

  “Mr Scott?” Clementine sniggered from behind him, earning his deadpanned stare.

  “Well, how’d you go and do this?” Ms Martin probed as she took his hand and observed it, ignoring his winces.

  “Home Ec., hot frying pan, you know how it goes,” he replied, attempting to smile through the pain.

  “As long as you’re in the classroom, I do,” Ms Martin mumbled. “Did you run it under water?” she then questioned. 

  “Not for long,” Clementine answered, averting Ms Martin’s gaze to her. 

  “Well, it doesn’t seem to be all that bad,” she determined. “A first degree burn at most. Keep runnin’ it under the tap over there, I’ll grab the cooling gel.”

  As the nurse walked over to her desk, Louis looked back to the girl.

  “You know, it doesn’t actually hurt  _that_  bad,” he assured Clementine, stumbling over to the sink.

  As she raised a dubious brow at his insistence, Clementine sat on the bed against the wall and watched him poorly pretend the pain wasn’t overbearing. It didn’t matter how breezily he played off his injury, she could see the agony on his face at every quiet moment, like right then, as he held his hand under the running water. His brows would raise slightly, his eyes worriedly focusing on his sensitively raw palm. He seemed worried, really worried.

  She continued to stare at him, soon wandering. Wandering things about him. Like how long he had lived here. He seemed so familiar with a lot of the people she had come across. Kids in the hall would nod or say hello to him, girls wouldn’t stop talking to him during class, teachers looked to him in such high esteem. If he were such a stark contrast to those at Ericson’s, what the hell was he doing here? What was a guy like Louis doing at a school for troubled youth? Or rather, what was he  _hiding?_  Why was he trying to befriend her? It wasn’t that she thought he was  _super_  cool for a person like her, or out of her feeble realm of social relevancy, he was… good. Wholesome, in a way. If the tables were turned and it were Clementine who had burnt her hand, she wouldn’t even allow Louis to let his worries out. She took care of herself, by herself. In a way, it was a good feeling; knowing that she had her own back, that she could count on herself if things ever went awry. But it felt as if it wouldn’t last very long, that at some point, she wasn’t going to know what to do anymore or how to take care of herself. It was already happening, what with the lack of eating and sleeping over the last couple days. Instead, she helped someone else; a feeling that never felt foreign. Whether it was taking care of AJ when no one was home or tending to Louis’ accidentally—and idiotically—self-inflicted injuries, it felt less abnormal to give aid than receive it. 

  In the midst of Ms Martin applying the cooling gel, a knock on the door turned all three heads to a nauseated Luke.

  “Sorry for the bad news, Betty, but uh… one of my freshmen puked in the middle of class again,” Luke told her, his face contorted in disgust. “It’s just nasty all over the place.”

  Ms Martin sighed with a roll of her eyes.

  “Can’t go a damn week without someone hurlin’, can we?” she chuckled to herself before sighing seriously. “I’ll be right over.” 

  As she screwed the lid back onto the cooling gel and placed it on her desk, Luke’s eyes flickered over to Clementine, his brows curving in worry.

  “Clementine, are you alright?” he asked, earning her honest nod.

  “Believe it or not, we aren’t here for me,” she told him, jerking her thumb to Louis by the sink. He returned Luke’s curious stare with yet another awkward smile. 

  “Oh… right. You just, uh… you take care of yourself,” Luke slowly nodded, giving her one last expectant look before stepping out. 

  Ms Martin glanced at Clementine, her top lip curled as if she were trying to remember something.

  “Miss…”

  “Clementine,” the girl quickly responded before shaking her head. “I mean, Everett.”

  “Miss Everett,” she affirmed, reaching up to the shelf behind her desk and pulling out a few items. “I need you to wash your hands and help Mr Scott cover the burn, alright? I’ll be back in a jiff, all you need to do is put the gauze over it and wrap it with the bandage. You administered first aid before?”

  “Uh… like bandaids and sprained wrists?” she questioned.

  “That’ll do, darlin’. You’ll be fine. Just follow my instructions, okay?” she assured her. “Oh, and I can’t let him leave ‘til I come back. So when you’re all done, you can get back to class.” 

  The girl nodded as Ms Martin placed a gauze pad and bandage roll on the corner of her desk. Grabbing latex gloves and a respiratory mask from the confines of a closet, the woman dashed out of the room with no time to spare. Heeding her wishes, Clementine instructed Louis to sit on the bed while she washed her hands. Once she was done, she took the medical supplies from the desk and made her way over to an unusually silent Louis. Crouching just in front of him, she awkwardly held out her hand to take his, glancing up at him expectantly through her lashes.

  “I’m going to be honest here. I feel pretty stupid right now,” he admitted after a sigh, his tone strangely dulled and serious as he placed his hand in hers.

  “Yeah,” she huffed incredulously, “that was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen someone do,” she blinked, before noticing his embarrassment. “And, um… one of the funniest.”

  Louis suddenly glanced at her.

  “Well, I’m just glad my pain could be found amusing to someone, at least,” he playfully rolled his eyes, his chipper tone now returning. As she tried to unclip the hooks from the bandage roll, Louis cleared his throat. “You know, I wasn’t expecting you to come to my rescue so quickly. I kind of expected you to put my hand back  _on_ the stove,” he grinned, earning a shake of her head.

  “Funny, but, no. I wouldn’t do that to you Louis,” she replied, placing the hooks in his other hand.

  “Ah, well, thank goodness for that,” he gave her a nod before pausing, observing the not-so-shiny ground below him. “So… you’ve—um, got quite the maternal instinct there,” he told her, earning her perplexed gaze. “What’s up with that?”

  “Maternal instinct? I… What do you mean?” she grew flustered, lowering her hand from his. 

  “You know, running up to me, putting my hand under water, not letting go of me until we got here,” he gestured his unscathed hand as he listed off.

  Clementine’s brows immediately furrowed.

  “You don’t think I…?” she blinked at him, her throat felt like it was closing up. “It’s not like that— I— I just, I help, that’s… that’s something I do, it— I don’t  _like_ —” 

  “Oh, you—you think I meant you  _liked_  me? No, that’s… I— you— I didn’t mean—”

  “Good, because that’s not what this is, you know, I just—”

  “O- Of course not. You, um… you’re just helping and—”

  “Yeah, I am—”

  “So of course… I don’t… um…”

  Clementine’s eyes burned into the ground as Louis scratched the back of his head. Holy shit, this got awkward real fast. 

  “I’ve… got a little brother. Maybe that’s where the… ‘maternal instinct’ came from. He’s always falling off of something,” she answered, shaking her head as she began to roll the bandage around his palm.

  “Well, that’s one thing your brother and I have in common,” Louis grinned. “So, what’s his name?” he questioned.

  “AJ,” she replied before shrugging. “Well, Alvin Junior.”

  “After your dad? Or, you know, I’m sure there’s some lovely ladies out there somewhere with the name Alvin,” he began to grin.

  “No,” she laughed, “Lee’s our foster dad. AJ was named after his real dad, one of Lee’s college friends. It’s a—um… it’s not a fun story.”

  “I get it,” Louis frowned sympathetically. “You don’t need to.”

  Clementine grabbed the hooks from his hand and clipped them onto his now bandaged palm. She stood up, folding her arms almost triumphantly. 

  “You’re all done,” she replied.

  “Hmm,” he hummed as he observed his hand, his mischievous eyes soon flickering back up to her. “This is a quite the wrap, Clementine. Almost an A+ job. Could use a little  _finesse_  though,” he taunted, leaning back on his undamaged hand.

  “It’s a bandage, not an art project,” she rolled her eyes.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” he said, staring up at her with his characteristically suave smile. “This thing’s a  _thing_  of art,” he continued, scoping his bandage out again.

  Unable to contain her grin, Clementine turned away from Louis feeling like a fool. She wouldn’t allow him to see the unspoken victory of her genuine smile at the hands of his words.  _You gotta get out of here,_  she thought to herself as she shook her head. Stupid Louis.

  “I’m—uh… I should leave. Walter’s probably expecting me back there,” she said with her back turned to him. 

  “I guess I’ll see you around, then,” he replied, watching her head for the door. “And Clem?” he paused, waiting for her to turn around. “Thank you.”

  Clementine’s eyes widened as she halted at the door way. She tried, desperately, to force out any sort of gratitude but fell short. Completely unexpectant of any praise, all she could do was look back at him and nod in acknowledgement. Then, she continued out of the room without a word, leaving him to sit alone in the nurse’s office with a burning sensation in his palm, and in the pit of his stomach. To him, it seemed  _she_  was the thing of art.

* * *

  Friday nights didn’t seem to be so boring back in Macon. There might have been nothing to do at home, but at least Clementine could go out. Like taking AJ to the baseball field, seeing a movie with Lee, or maybe joining Naomi and her friends for bowling night. Naomi liked to suck up to the kids she thought were infinitely cooler than her – something about a lame social hierarchy? Clementine sometimes went along, mostly to watch out for her friend, other times to distract herself from the hostility at home. She wasn’t one for conversation, instead watching Naomi smooth talk all the kids that looked nicer, dressed nicer, and acted nicer than Clementine ever could. It wasn’t long before she wore them down and was eventually accepted into their group, often leaving Clementine to fend for herself amongst the horny teenage boys and rambunctious kids of the bowling alley. During one instance, some janky guy in a pristine baseball jersey (which she believed to be the number Javier Garcia wore) wouldn’t stop pestering her for her number. She couldn’t count on two hands how many times she said no, but it seemed the word just wasn’t in his vocabulary. So when it was her turn to bowl, she rolled a seven-ten split with his cell phone. Naomi was cackling, but eventually stopped at the sight of her new friends’ faces. When Clementine turned around, all of them, including the guy, stared at her like she was a maniac. She stopped going to the bowling alley after that. 

  When her other options weren’t available, Clementine snuck out and roamed, watching stores close for the night or people chat as they walked home with their friends in the city light. She never wanted Lee to know she did that, considering how dangerous it was for a teenaged girl to roam the town late on a Friday night. At one point, she stumbled upon a bunch of people under a bridge in the suburbs. Teenagers, from her school. One recognised her, invited her down, and what ensued was one of the most casual discussions between teenagers she had ever seen. They spoke about the world, their school, and even their families. It became a habit to go down to the bridge every Friday night, it was like her very own safe haven. She didn’t speak often or offer much of her two cents when it came to conversation, but she didn’t mind sitting there and getting to know how all these people thought. And they didn’t mind her being there. They weren’t exactly friendly, but they weren’t assholes either. They were just… kids, talking to other kids. There was the occasional drug deal that went down, but besides that, conversations would ensue like normal. However when school started back up after the summer and she saw some of them in the hall, not a single one gave her a second glance. The bridge and the connections she made were unofficially never to be spoken of, like some ominous, secret club. So whenever Audrey, or AJ, or Lee became too much, off would she go to the bridge, sitting there and listening to all these different philosophies on life. None of them were going to bother her during school, or show up at her house, or invite her to parties… it was what she wanted, at least so she thought. She subconsciously hated the exclusivity of it. They were the closest thing to friends that she had, maybe  _some_ communication was okay. It wasn’t until one night when Lee was driving back home from his parents’ pharmacy did he spot Clementine under the bridge. It was like time had slowed to a stop – he saw her, she saw him, and in that very moment, she knew that from then on, Lee would never stop driving past to make sure she was okay. He didn’t want to stop her from going altogether, in fact, it was nice to see her amongst a bunch of friends. But like every father would be, he was concerned for her. For Clementine, it was easier to stop going altogether than it was to see Lee so worried, even if she was irritated at him for finding out. Even if it meant she couldn’t escape the world to under that bridge. 

  And there went her safe haven.

  Her first Friday night at Ericson’s hadn’t been as eventful as the last few days were. Half of the kids who went to the boarding school lived fairly close to the area, so a lot of them went home for the weekend. After Sarah sat down and did her homework with Clementine, she went home, as did Brody. And Violet was no where to be seen. She went to the library to pass some time with the hopes of finding a book to read, but after four pages, the tacky love interest was already making moves so she ditched the book and went back to her dorm. Staring into the empty room, it continued to dawn on her that there was still  _nothing to do_. The school allowed Friday nights to be ‘free time’ for students, but without anyone around, there wasn’t anything she could really sink her teeth into. Succumbing to her boredom, she even finished the extended questions on her homework. Then, the essay for Art History. And it was only  _nine_. After mindlessly searching the drawers of the desk in her room, she found an empty notebook. Aasim mentioned something about ‘chronicling everything’ when he spoke to her during Social Studies, he seemed extremely invested in making sure almost all the details of the day were written down. After gazing at the notebook for a few moments, she figured she could give it a try. How hard would it be to write the day’s events in some tattered, old notebook?

       _April 11, 2003_  
      Friday  
  
      Boarding school is fucking boring.

   Clementine glared down at the page, rereading her words before rolling her eyes. She struck through the ink and tried again.

      _Today is Friday. April 11, 2003. Today. Today… is the day of April 11.  
     The year, 2003. The fifth day in the week. Five._

  “This is stupid,” she declared to herself, ripping out the page and tossing the book back into the drawer.

  As she sat at the desk, eyes burning into the wall in front of her, one relieving idea sprung to her mind.

_Call Lee._

  She hastily climbed out of the chair and darted over to the door, booking it down the hall and into the courtyard. She didn’t need Louis’ help; how hard could it be to make a quick call and get the hell out of dodge? Once she reached the administration building, she slowed her pace and quietly made her way up the stairs. It’s not like she saw Louis around, anyway. As far as she knew, he wasn’t even on school grounds. Reaching the corridor, she tip toed over to the door and slowly began to open it. He was probably at home, making jokes to his stupidly burnt hand.

  “I’ll be going home in five minutes, so I ask that you—”

  Clementine halted as her eyes widened and locked directly with the Headmaster’s. Ms Caul peered over her shoulder and at the girl, her brows then lowering into a glare.

  “Ah, Miss Everett. Is there something you need?” the Headmaster questioned, closing the briefcase on his desk.

  “Uh… nope,” she shook her head, pursing her lips. “I just… I thought this was student services. Wrong door. My bad. I’ll just leave—”

  “Miss Everett, do you have something to tell us?” Ms Caul pointedly asked, her hand raising to her hip as she stared at the girl with suspicion. The Headmaster glanced at her oddly.

  “No. I just made a mistake,” Clementine responded, equally as pointed.

  “Miss Everett, really, you’re free to go,” the Headmaster declared with a swat of his hand. “Just don’t forget that lights are out at twelve tonight. You’re dismissed.”

  Disgruntled, Clementine gave one last glare to Ms Caul before shutting the door.

_Well, shit._

  With no call to Lee and nothing else to do, she figured she could find some classwork to do in her locker before calling it an early night. After all, the sooner Lee found out she was on top of all her school work for the first time in, well,  _ever_ , the sooner he would pull her out of here. It wasn’t that Clementine failed to be academically smart, what with Lee being a history professor and all, she spent the last eight years learning whatever civil war he could shove down her throat. It seemed to be a mixture of no motivation and strong motivation to do literally anything else that guaranteed a low grade throughout her high school years.

  In the classroom building, Clementine headed for her locker and started to twist her combination in. Upon opening it, she was stared back at by the heaping mess of school work, text books, and stationary. She couldn’t figure out how it got so messy in only the few days she had spent at the school.

_Seriously, how did it get like this?_

  As she began to rearrange her books into an orderly fashion, a cluster of chattering students poured out from one of the classrooms on her left, assumingly finished with an extracurricular class.

  “Really? You’re not even touching the homework?”

  “Dude, I don’t do  _any_ of the after-class homework. Just showing up gets you a good enough grade,” she heard Louis respond. “Why put in all the extra effort?”

  “Damn, Lou,” Mitch grinned. “I wouldn’t have pinned you as such a slacker.”

  By the time she turned around, he and Mitch were already too close to avoid. It was either say something, or try to pretend she didn’t just make eye contact with them three times.

  “Uh, hey,” she blurted out, shoving one of her textbooks back into her locker. “How’s your hand, Louis?”

  “Oh, this old thing?” he held up his bandaged hand. “She’s fine. She’s seen  _much_ worse days,” he assured, earning Mitch’s grimace.

  “Eugh, God, I hope you don’t call it a ‘she’ like Willy calls it a ‘she’,” Mitch recoiled.

  “That’s  _not_ what I mean,” Louis deadpanned, his tone firming up.

  “Fuckin’ hope not,” Mitch responded, shrugging his backpack up on his shoulder more securely. Clementine stared at the two, her lip slightly curled at the topic of conversation.

  “So, Clem, got any plans for this lovely Friday night?” Louis began, leaning against one of the lockers and yet again receiving a grimace from Mitch. The girl hesitantly shook her head. “‘Cause a bunch of us are going down to the safe haven in a bit, and, y’know, if you’re not busy, you’re more than welcome to join us,” he shrugged seamlessly.

  “The safe haven?” she curiously echoed.

  “It’s by some crummy shack near the river,” Mitch explained. “We play cards, talk a little. Nothing too exciting. It sure as shit beats being cooped up in here all night, though.”

  “Can’t say I disagree,” Louis interjected. “So, you in? Or do I have to go disappoint the others with your lack of presence?”

  “Disappoint the others or disappoint you?” Mitch teased through a mumble, crossing his arms over his chest with a sly grin. Louis’ brows lowered into a deadpan once again.

  “I guess I’m in, then,” Clementine responded, slowly closing her locker.

  As Mitch continued to downplay the excitement of the safe haven, concentration seemed to etch onto Louis’ face as he curved his brows in thought.

  “I would be going, but my mom’s making me come home for my grandma’s stupid birthday,” Mitch grumbled. “Whatever. I raid her purse when she’s over. She’s so old, she probably forgets she even has one.”

  “Uh, right,” Clementine nodded cautiously before turning back to Louis. “So… where are the others?”

  “Right, yeah,” Louis snapped back into action, shaking his head of his rumination. “Mitch can take you back to our dorm where Vi and Marlon are—”

  “The fuck I can,” he interjected, lip curled in denial.

  “I gotta do something first—”

  “My dad will be on my  _ass_ if I’m not at those gates when he is,” Mitch firmly replied.

  “Dude, I promise it won’t be long,” he planted his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “ _Louis—_ ”

  “Just tell him class ended later than it was supposed to,” he suggested, easing over to the courtyard doors. “Or blame me! I don’t mind! Just get her to the dorm, I’ll meet you all at the doors!” he called back to them, slipping out of the doors and leaving the pair by the lockers. Mitch sighed, muttering a few curses under his breath.

  “Come on,” he begrudgingly instructed, heading over to the doors.

  Mitch guided Clementine back to the dorms where he took a left turn into the boys’ domain. Not much was different from the girls’ corridor, maybe besides the overpowering smell of cheap body spray and grime. After silence had taken reign of most of the time spent walking to the dorm, the boy beside her decided to finally speak up.

  “Kate’s cool, isn’t she?” Mitch questioned, side-eying her as she walked.

  “Uh… yeah, I’d say so,” she replied, unexpectant of his topic of choice.

  Mitch smirked to himself.

  “She really understands. Not like all those other phoney ‘ _therapists’_ out there,” he shook his head, his naturally narrowed eyes staring in front of him. His expression then softened. “Kate gets you.”

  “She sure does,” Clementine agreed for the sake of the conversation. It seemed like one wrong move, and he would blow up at her. Or ‘raid her purse.’ At least that was the vibe she was receiving.

  Mitch started to chuckle to himself.

  “This one time I saw her smoking behind the school. I was thinkin’ it was weed, you know, it had to be. Her eyes were all bloodshot and she was acting all relaxed and stuff,” he grinned to himself. “Told her I wouldn’t tell anybody if she let me join her,” he admitted as they came to a halt at the door. “It was weed.”

  “You smoked weed with the school’s therapist?” Clementine’s top lip curled in confusion.  

  “Yeah, you tried it?” he asked, his hands placed upon his hips.

  Clementine hesitated for a moment, her mind recalling back to the last person she spoke about her experience with such a taboo.  _Louis_.

  “Um… no,” she jaggedly replied, her brow quirking. Mitch scoffed.

  “Stiff,” he muttered, shaking his head as he opened the door to the dorm room. She grimaced. 

_Boys smoke weed one time and all of a sudden they’re Bob Marley._

  Inside the heavily decorated dormitory sat Marlon on one bed, and Violet on the opposite. Sports paraphernalia littered the walls, Ericson’s banners stuck especially on the wall by Marlon’s bottom bunk. It was every teenaged boy’s wet dream to be surrounded by jerseys and signed posters as he slept at night. It was also sort of freaky how much Marlon was into it.

  “Clementine,” Marlon sat up from his bunk as he peered at the door. “Hey. You joining us tonight?”

  “Louis wanted to bring her along,” Mitch replied, hands planted firmly on his hips as he flicked his head to move his hair out of his eyes.

  Marlon gave a slight huff, as if he were impressed by something that Clementine struggled to figure out. He nodded his head, taking a quick glance back at Violet who raised her brows at him.

  “And where’s the man himself?” Marlon questioned.

  “Man?” Violet scoffed.

  “Said he had to do some bullshit first. He’ll meet you guys at the doors,” Mitch replied, staring between the room’s occupants. “Anyway, I gotta go get my ass handed to me by my dad for being late. See you turds later,” he swatted his hand as a crude goodbye gesture before leaving.

  “Later Mitch,” Violet casually saluted him just shortly after he disappeared from the doorway.

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to join us, Clem,” Marlon finally responded as if he clicked back into motion. “The group’s been thinning out these last few weeks, it’d be great to bring along some newcomers.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’ll actually make things interesting,” Violet interjected, staring at the back of the blond boy’s head. He rolled his eyes, approaching the girl by the door.

  “It’s a bit of a walk, but I’m sure you don’t mind,” he continued. “We’ll just have to wait for Willy before we head off. He’s usually our distraction.”

  “Distraction?” Clementine’s brows raised as her arms folded.

  “We gotta jump the walls to get outside them, duh,” Violet grinned obviously, standing from the bunk. Clementine stared at the pair, dubious of what she had let herself get into. How would Lee feel if he found out she was sneaking out  _again?_ This time, from a damn boarding school?

  “Sneaking out, huh?” Clementine raised a brow.

  “It’s somewhat of an effort, what with new, tougher guards being implemented by the gates every week, but it’s worth the risk,” Marlon replied with a grin of excitement. “One of the best things about the safe haven is the escape to it. Man, the adrenaline… it powers you.”

  “Piece of cake. Let’s do it,” Clementine nodded determinedly.

  “You’ve done it before?” Violet asked.

  “One of the best tricks of my many trades,” she boldly replied.

  It wasn’t long before Clementine’s tough talk was interrupted by Willy’s arrival. The small group ventured off to the courtyard where they found Louis waiting by the doors of the administration building. His arms were awkwardly folded over his unusually protruding chest, but was failed to be noticed by the others as they hurried him towards the gates that lead to the greenhouse. The group hid in between the sparse bushes beside one of the walls where they then scoped out the guards on duty.

  “Alright,” Marlon muttered to himself, “two by the main gate… one by the greenhouse gate…”

  His eyes narrowed in on the men, reluctantly drifting to their holstered guns. Tougher security, tougher escape. He knew they weren’t allowed to shoot kids, god forbid they ever did. So, whatever threat was outside of those gates, he and the crew had yet to encounter. It may have been just a scare tactic for students not to leave, or maybe, just maybe, they lucked out every single time they sneakily stepped foot outside the walls. Marlon let out a firm breath.

  “What the plan here?” Violet pressured, intently awaiting an answer from the boy.

  “We’re gonna switch it up this time,” he replied, soon pointing his dirty finger at the guards by the main gate. “I’ll speak to the guards. Get them to head up to the Headmaster for an “ _important business meeting_.” Then, we’ll get Willy to work his magic on the stooge by the greenhouse area. That way, we can go through the main gate instead of jumping over the wall.”

  “But the wall near the greenhouse is closer to the safe haven,” Louis mentioned. “Why not try there?”

  “We almost got caught last time we tried to jump it. I’m not putting us all at risk again,” Marlon adamantly replied. “We’re going for that gate. Willy, get yourself ready,“ he ordered.

  “One way ticket to puke town coming up,” Willy excitedly whispered. He pivoted around to face the wall and before Clementine knew it, echoed the gargled sounds of muffled dry heaving.

  “No, stop,” Clementine stared at him wildly, her eyes then flickering at Marlon. “The plan isn’t solid enough. Once the guards find out Ericson doesn’t need them, they’ll be back here before Willy can even get his puke up,” she told him. “Going through those main gates will make way too much noise, too. And it looks like they’re already catching on to you guys sneaking out. You said those guards are getting tougher by the week, which means you won’t be able to give them the slip as easily as you used to. We need a better plan.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Louis asked, shrugging.

  “If we’re going to do this, then we need to get the guards away from the courtyard for more than thirty seconds,” she informed them. “Willy needs to do something more outrageous than just puke up on a guard—”

  “I wasn’t  _just_ going to puke on him,” Willy interrupted, “I was going to throw it at him too!” he corrected.

  “Eugh—” Violet shook her head.

  “Okay, now  _that_ is disgusting,” Louis recoiled. “That’s what you had in mind? Doing the technicoloured yawn?”

  Clementine paused for a moment, relaying the information in her head. As much as she desired to get the hell away from this place, she couldn’t help but  _want_ to see Willy at his most grotesque. Call it a morbid curiosity, she called it entertaining.

  “That… might actually work,” she blinked, earning the abhorred stares of her peers. “As gross as it is, and it  _definitely_ is… if you can get all the guards to chase you away from the courtyard, that would give us more time to jump over the greenhouse walls. The gates to that area are already open, so we won’t make any noise. No one can catch us if no one’s around.”

  Marlon stirred in his crouching position, his knee bouncing as he considered her plan. Louis and Violet looked to him almost curiously, unsure of what his verdict would be. When their friend was set on something, he was truly set on it. Not much deterred him from his desires. Especially if it impacted either his friends, or his position as sophomore student body leader. Whatever rule breaking he was about to undertake had to be almost fool-proof.

  “You think we’ll be able to get all those guards to chase him?” Marlon questioned, curious of her logic as he bit down on his bottom lip.

  “If he poses himself as a big enough threat, then there shouldn’t be a problem,” she replied, giving him a nod. “Willy, all you have to do is go totally crazy. Like, batshit crazy.”

  “Yeah, I like that,” he excitedly agreed, pulling a gap-toothed grin. “Where do you want me to go once I’m out of the courtyard?”

  “Uh… Headmaster’s office,” Violet sporadically replied. “They’ll definitely follow you if you’re threatening to go after Ericson.”

  Willy delivered a final nod before glancing over to Marlon.

  “You better get me out of trouble,” he demanded, his snappy eyes narrowing in on the boy.

  “Always,” Marlon ruffled his hair, giving him a curt nod. “Now get your ass out there. Make us proud.”

  Taking a deep breath, Willy plunged his fingers down his throat once again, continuing to dry heave before he wiped the dripping saliva from his chin and stood up. The trio grimaced at the kid as Clementine watched him intently, observing her plan as he conducted it. Willy then charged over to the middle of the courtyard and gave one final dry heave before spewing chunks all over the flag pole.

  “Ah, Jesus Christ, kid…” the guard by the greenhouse gate shook his head, sighing as he made his way over to Willy.

  “I knew that cafeteria food looked a little off today,” one of the guards by the main gate mentioned to the other.

  As the greenhouse guard placed his hand on Willy’s back, the boy swiftly scooped up a heap of his own vomit and flung it at the man, causing him to stumble back, sputtering.

  “ _Pbbt!_ Wh- what the fuck, kid?!” he gagged, hastily wiping the chunks off his face.

  “Holy shit,” Violet muttered under her breath.

  “Holy shit!” one of the guards by the main gate called out, snickering as he slapped his hand over his mouth.

  “Oh, grow up, Dale,” the guard beside him scoffed, thumbs tugging contently on her belt loops.

  “Get away from me!” Willy barked, tears and snot streaming down his face from the unpleasant stinging of puke. “I hate you! I hate this school!”

  Willy gathered up a heap of his vomit again before racing over to the guards by the main gate. Like children utterly terrified of a spider, they scurried away from the gate as soon as they saw him approach. The greenhouse guard hesitated to fully grab at him at the threat of having chunder thrown in his face again.

  Marlon glanced at Clementine cautiously, watching her as she concentrated. He was utmost astounded that she wired a plan together so quickly, he wouldn’t have figured a girl so aloof had it in her to devise such rapid strategies. More shockingly, it was  _working_.

  “This is the  _worst_ thing I’ve ever seen,” Louis harshly whispered.

  “Give it a second,” Clementine grinned, appeased by her craft.

  All of the guards either begged or threatened Willy to put the dripping mess of upchuck down and to go wash off, to which he answered with one simple remark:

  “Fuck you! I’ll just put this all over Ericson and his stupid desk instead!”

  The guards gawked at each other in utter disbelief before looking back at Willy. With vomit in hand and a triumphant sniffle, the kid turned around and booked it for the administration building. The guards scrambled to chase after him, quickly disappearing from the courtyard and into the building.

  “Now!” Clementine instructed, darting out of the bush running past the greenhouse gates.

  “Come on, get your asses in gear!” Marlon called out to the others.

  The crew followed her as she led them to the side wall of the greenhouse area. Once met with nine feet of pure concrete stones, she halted.

  “Who’s the strongest?” she promptly asked, looking between Louis and Marlon. Louis held his finger up matter-of-factly.

  “That would be m—”

  “Not you,” Violet interjected.

  “Alright. Marlon, I need you to boost us up,” Clementine requested, then pointing upwards. “Louis, you sit on top of the wall and help get us over. Marlon can jump up afterwards and we’ll pull him over together,” she told them. “We don’t need to rush, but we should work fast.”

  “Okay, go,” Marlon nodded at Louis, cupping his hands just atop of his knee as he knelt down.

  “I… uh, okay,” he fumbled with his jacket for a moment before stepping on Marlon’s hands, his own planted against the wall. As they did, Louis’ bandage came into full view of Clementine’s now concerned eyes.

  “Shit, Louis, I forgot about your hand,” Clementine scratched her head, observing the dirty bandage.

  “Oh, this? It’s not an issue. Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, turning to give her a wink. “I could do this with my eyes closed—”

  “Get off my fuckin’ hands, Louis,” Marlon gritted his teeth in pain.

  “Oh, right, sorry buddy.”

  With one hefty boost from Marlon, Louis pulled himself up the thick, concrete walls and despite the pain in his hand, manoeuvred himself sit on top of it. Legs on either side, he leaned down and held his hand out to his dearest friend Violet, gesturing her to hop up and grab it.

  Violet rolled her eyes and stepped up on Marlon’s hands. He hoisted her up as she promptly latched onto Louis’ hand, using her feet to climb up the wall. She then jumped over and landed in the dirt amongst the bushes, regaining her balance and dusting herself off.

  Louis then peered down to find Clementine already awaiting his helpful hand, hers partially extended up towards him. He hesitantly took it as she hesitantly accepted it, using Marlon’s boost to place her knee on top of the wall. Still firmly grasping his hand, she pulled herself forward as he steadied her balance, his injured hand instinctively attracting to her. She then turned and sat opposite of him, straddling the wall just as he did. But whilst their hands released, he couldn’t help but continue to watch her, even after she had turned away from him long ago. For such a high-risk yet secure plan, what drove his anxiety was  _her_ , and it had been all along. She was like a punch to the gut, one where all the wind is knocked out of you and you fall to your knees, gasping and panicking. But air couldn’t seem to find it’s wait into your lungs. Until it did, and as is filled back up inside you, revitalising you, you would understand that it was one of the most alleviating feelings in the world. Allowing that moment of physicality with him was the crisp air, seeping its way back into his windless lungs.

  “Louis? Louis!” Marlon called out to him, awaiting his hand as he stepped on the protruding stones of the wall.

  Louis’ eyes unstuck from Clementine as he glanced down at his best friend, his hand immediately reaching down to grab his. He and the girl assisted Marlon to the top of the wall, watching him balance himself before jumping down to Violet.

  “Jump, Louis,” Clementine told the boy beside her as they both swung their legs around. She had noticed his hesitance.

  “I think I need a hand,” he joked, holding up his injured palm and cracking his usually charming smile. With a roll of her eyes, Clementine planted her hand on the back of Louis and pushed him off the wall, watching him land luckily on his feet.


	6. the safe haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marlon, Violet, Louis, and Clementine trek to the nearby lake for a fun-filled evening and extremely cold water, in which Louis brings a nice surprise for the group courtesy of the Headmaster’s alcohol cabinet. Meanwhile, with Clementine gone, Lee is at grips with his family situation back at home.   
> Warnings: Planet sized Disco Broccoli’s, and some old fashioned underage drinking. Violet also dunks on Louis but they’re not playing basketball. I just feel like “dunks” has the right feeling to it. You get me.

   "Lee, how do I get a baby?"

   Lee halted the journey of his fork, his mouth rigidly agape, and blinked at the child in the seat beside him. His brows dented ever so slightly as he tried to make sense of the question posed to him. It had to be right in the middle of dinner, didn't it?

_Didn't it?_

   "A baby?" Lee echoed. "You want a baby?"

   "Yeah, like, where do they come from?" AJ questioned further, waving his hand about before setting his fork down.

   He was  _not_  having this conversation.

   "Uh… n- now, why would you want a baby?" he tried avoiding the exact question, but AJ's brows furrowed.

   "Well… with Clem gone, I got no one," he solemnly replied, peering down at his plate as his shoulders sunk. "You have Audrey, Sam's got the poodle from the house down the road, but I haven't got anyone anymore."

   Lee inwardly sighed relief when he pieced together the concept AJ was struggling to appropriately convey. Holy hell did this kid keep him on his toes.

   "You mean you want another sibling?" he questioned, lowering his fork as he readjusted in his seat.

   "Sibling, yeah!" AJ's eyes lit up.

   Lee faltered.

   "Now, you know—I—I can't, I've told you—" Lee stammered, soon sighing from difficulty. "Audrey and I can't have any children, AJ," he told the young boy.

   "I know, but can't you get a baby where you got me?" he questioned, perking up in his chair. "Clem said you got me from the system. Now, I don't know really know where that is, but she said she was from there too! So there's gotta be more babies at the system, right?"

   Completely and utterly lost, Lee's eyes drifted over to a focused yet peeved Audrey as she sifted through today's mail. Surely she could get him out of this horrid conversation, right?

   "You wanna chime in on this?" he asked her, arm propped upon the chair back as her eyes snapped back at him.

   "Hm?" she stare widened, expectant of clarification. Lee gestured his head towards the doe-eyed boy, his soft, curious face peering back up at her for answers. Her gaze stiffened. "Just… finish your food, AJ," she ordered aloofly with the swat of her hand, continuing to go through the bills.

   Lee's lips parted to express his dismay, but he couldn't seem to get the words out.

   "I don't want it anymore," the boy crossed his arms. "It's dry… and we don't have cheese."

   "It's leftovers, it's  _meant_  to be dry," Audrey emphasised, dropping her hands in frustration. "I can't be your servant, alright? I ain't got time to cook all the damn day, not with all this paperwork—"

   "I think what she meant to say was… not a lot of people are able to have food on their plates," Lee furrowed his brows, placing his hand on the child's shoulder. "It's not fair to waste it when there's other people starving out there. And… you gotta get all your nutrients, you know. How are you supposed to grow up tall and strong if you don't eat?"

   "Stronger than you?" he began to grin, his conversational savviness causing Lee to huff. The kid was getting smart, maybe a little too smart. Lee could only wonder, was it nature or nurture? If you asked the boy, he'd probably say Disco Broccoli.

   "Maybe," he smiled along with him, nudging his arm. "Don't count on it, though."

   "Alright…" AJ reluctantly returned to his stiff spaghetti, planting his head upon his propped-up hand, digging his fork in, and twirling.

   As Lee saved the day once again, he peered back at Audrey, utterly bewildered by her outburst. But as her eyes were glued to the bills in her hands, she barely acknowledged Lee had even turned around in his chair. He understood why she was being so bitter. Ever since Clementine, well… her mood was just foul. Her snapping was more frequent and widespread, even at AJ, and he was only intermittently difficult. It had only been a couple weeks since the incident, and as unquestionably bizarre it was for Clementine to lash out so outlandishly, and as seriously he could handle the matter by sending her to a boarding school, he  _still_  didn't think he had a good grip on the entire situation. What else was he to do than agree with Audrey and send her away? He thought it would put his wife at ease, having not to raise an arduous teenager anymore, but it didn't seem to be work. Audrey was even worse off than before.

   "We're damn lucky we aren't being drained a single cent for the damages on that company car…" Audrey huffed with frustration, shaking her head. "It's bad enough we gotta pay for those school fees."

   Lee scratched the back of his head.  
  
   "How did you, uh… manage that, by the way?" he asked.

   "Managed…?"

   "Getting it replaced for free? Through the company?"

   Audrey glanced away, shrugging as if the answer was obvious.

   "You know, just—"

   "Because I spoke to my brother's wife about company issued vehicles," Lee started, standing from his seat. "Given the circumstances of what happened, your boss should be holdin' you liable for it—"

   "I know a guy, alright?" she freaked, tossing the bill onto the counter. "I worked it out myself. That's it! That's the end of it," she crossed her arms. "Now I don't wanna hear no more 'bout what happened. She's gone. It's over with."

   With a grimace of shock, Lee raised his hands up. Her eruption was one thing that caught him off guard, but acting like Clementine was some pesky little problem was another.

   "Where the hell did that come from?" he asked, his eyes focusing wildly at her.

   Audrey opened her mouth to justify herself, but the overwhelming feeling of exasperation forced her to shut her eyes. Her fists balled with anger, but soon released as she picked up the pile of bills on the counter and stormed off into the living room, pulling the sliding door shut behind her. Lee stood there in absolute bewilderment, trying to ignore the fact that it was the seventh outburst this week.

   He couldn't.

   It was like his family was imploding on him, and for the first time in, well,  _ever…_  he couldn't fix it. Sending Clementine off to a boarding school was supposed to fix things, but Audrey was still so cold and strange to him that it was starting to seem like it was all for nothing.

   There was more to this, there  _had_  to be.

   "Can I throw my food out now?" AJ's dulled voice spoke up from behind him.  
  
   Lee's hand fell upon his forehead as his eyes closed. A sigh came over him once again, but he couldn't bear the thought of AJ seeing him so lost.

   "Yeah…" he then suddenly shook his head. "No, just— give it to the dog," he corrected.

   AJ stood up.

   "It was dry when she made it yesterday, too…" he mumbled, grabbing his plate and heading outside.

* * *

   The group eventually deviated from the bushes and found the path that led to the river. For the first time in three days, Clementine felt free again. Free to see the nature through the darkness, free to leave the ghastly concrete walls behind, and free to go wherever the hell she damn well pleased. Well… if she knew the area, that is. But if she did,  _man_ , if she did… she would run father than the eye could see. She would run straight back to Georgia again if she had to. But somewhat oddly enough… she didn't feel the need to start booking it just yet. It seemed as if something were tied to her, keeping her there in arms reach. Perhaps, opportunity? It didn't feel all that limiting despite its length, but her gut was telling her not to cut the mysterious rope just yet.

   Marlon took the stroll as a chance to enthuse about all the great times they previously had at the lake, especially when more people showed up – people that weren't at the school anymore. People that, by the sounds of it, grew up.

   "Minnie usually comes along to these things, but, uh… Sophie said she wasn't feeling too good," Violet aloofly commented, folding her arms. "The perks of dating someone with an iron deficiency," she shrugged, playfully huffing through her quiet grin.

   "She's cool," Clementine replied. "You should invite her out next week. When she feels better?"

   "Yeah," Violet nodded, smiling at the girl. "That'd be fun."

   As Marlon recalled a memory specific to Violet, she trekked a little farther to talk beside him. Meanwhile, Louis quite obviously dropped back to travel beside Clementine. His unusually protruding coat was once again hidden by his folded arms, yet the attention was drawn to his irremovable smile which she couldn't help but find… comforting, almost. Strange, but comforting.

   "How're you liking the trip so far, Clemster?" he asked, nudging her with his elbow.

   "Don't call me that," she peered up at him, before her eyes lowered to his jacket. "…What are you holding?"

   "Hm? Oh, this?" Louis casually whipped out a bottle of liquor, much to the girl's utter surprise. "Just something I picked up from Ericson's office. Something about it being practically  _full_  tells me he won't be missing it."

   Clementine grabbed the bottle and examined it in awe, quickly skimming her finger over the label.

   "You stole rum from the Headmaster?" she spoke with bewilderment, her wide eyes gazing up at him. He was pretty much asking to get in trouble. Maybe he wasn't as much of a goody-two-shoes as she thought.

   "Well, you said you needed a friend to drink with, right?" he replied, his cheesy grin easing into a warm smile. "When's a better time than now?"

   She glanced at him, mildly flattered and mildly terrified.

   "Rum, huh?" Marlon peered back at the pair, and more specifically, the bottle of alcohol in the girl's hand. "Lou, you son of a gun," he smirked proudly at his friend.

   "I wouldn't exactly call him a gun," Louis mumbled.

   "Go ahead, Clem. Take the first swig, it'll warm you up," Marlon continued, noticing how foreign the bottle seemed to feel in her hand.

   "You think that's a good idea?" Violet stiffly asked, quirking her eyebrow.

   "Eh, if anyone vomits back at home, we'll blame it on the food," Marlon shrugged before looking back at Clementine. "Call it an official welcome into our inner circle of misfits."

   "The whole school is all misfits," Clementine retorted.

   "Hey, I told you this was the cool kids club," Louis snapped back at her cheerfully. "Except we aren't cool in the slightest and people look at us like they look at a bird who just flew into a window," he admitted before his expression swelled with concern. "Seriously. I think we worry people."

   Sighing, Clementine pulled the plug from the top of the bottle. She raised it to her nose and took a whiff, quickly glancing at Louis who expectantly watched her. It smelt… powerfully sweet. Pungent, like the distinct perfume Audrey wore for the last eight years. She eventually took a gulp of it as if she were drinking a cup of water, startled by the spicy shock but managing to keep her composure. It went down smooth and warm, but stung ever so slightly. It was like fire and ice; an empowering concoction of sugar, spice, and everything nice. However it was easily swallowable, possibly a little too much, and she truly chugged it as if it really were some sort of vanilla water. All she could conceptualise was how unpleasantly pleasant it was.

   "Jesus, Clem. I said the first swig, not the first quarter," Marlon said, a grin spreading across his face as Violet peeked back at her, alarmed.

   Clementine lowered the bottle and wiped her mouth free of the excess, gazing at Louis again to find his expectant glance had dropped into a look of astonishment.

   "That was a lot," he sounded surprised as she handed him the bottle. No corny joke, no cheerful witticism, just blatant shock.

   "It tastes like… like brimstone," she replied, her brows furrowing as the pit of her stomach heated up.

   " _Brimstone_?" Marlon stared at her.

   "Yeah."

   "Well, it's not supposed to taste like sweet tea," Marlon huffed an obvious laugh. He then looked to Louis who stared down at the bottle, his hand hesitantly scratching the back of his head.

   "I haven't got cooties," Clementine remarked, folding her arms. Rolling his eyes, Louis raised the bottle to his lips.

   "I know  _that_ ," he firmly replied. "Well… I mean, I hope—"

   " _Drink it,_ " she spat, her reluctance to speak had begun to thin out.

   Clementine watched the boy raise the bottle to his lips and tilt his head back, his eyes tightening shut as his throat quite forcibly gulped the liquid.  _His neck looks… good… from this angle,_  she thought to herself, before shaking her head.  _Gross_.  _Invasive thought. Don't be weird.  
_

   "Good god. Throwin' it down, huh, Lou?" Marlon clapped, cheering his friend on as he grinned excitably.

   As Louis brought the bottle back down, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and glanced back at it. Both he and Clementine surely put a dent in it. It was something they, two people who seemed miles apart, did together. Like some sort of art piece or collaborative composition – some sort of statement. He found it ridiculous that he chalked up something as juvenile and immature as this to a combined accomplishment, like it was something they should have been proud of. He felt as bad as he felt proud, like this was some forbidden sin he committed. When really, all it was were a couple of kids drinking their headmaster's rum in the forests of West Virginia. Part of him thought he knew better, thought that he was moronic for doing what he's done, especially in the company of a new person. A new  _girl._ The other part wanted to know what it was like to let loose, to be free, and he was glad to be doing it with his friends and a new, peculiar soul by his side. Conflicted, he handed the bottle to Marlon who then,  _way_  too easily, took a few quick swigs, cleared his throat, and extended it to Violet.

   "Don't want it," she rigidly replied.

   "Not even a little?" Marlon beckoned, jimmying the bottle in front of her face.

   "I  _said_  I don't want it," she snapped, shoving his arm away from her.

   "Is it supposed to burn this much?" Louis cleared his throat uncomfortably, jabbing his chest with his fist as if he were trying to get his words up.

   As the group trekked on, sipping the bottle between each other, Violet steered them in the direction of the safe haven. The deeper Clementine sunk into inebriation, the more Lee cropped up into her mind. What the hell would he be thinking if he knew what she was doing? More so, how would he play his lecture out? Of course, AJ decided to make an appearance in her conscience. She could just imagine it; his big, soft eyes hiding behind Lee as he scolded her to the moon and back.  _What kind of model are you for AJ? You're smarter than this! Turn your life around! You can only change if you want to!_

   Clementine huffed to herself.

_I'll change when I want to change.  
_

   It wasn't long before they were walking along the almost glacial stream. If it weren't for the alcohol taking its effect, she would have been freezing her ass off.

_Thank god it takes the edge off.  
_

   After the stint with the kids under the bridge, Clementine never thought she would be getting inebriated with a bunch of, well, pretty much strangers. It seemed as if the desire to forget the world was stronger than the weariness she had grown to enforce. All she wanted was to eliminate her barriers, and what did a better job of that than some good ol' forget-me-juice?

   "I still don't know why we shouldn't do it," a highly animated Louis began. "Between my musical prowess and everyone else's  _basic_ understanding of an instrument, we could be the hottest band on the market!  _Tell_  me we wouldn't be the most successful teenagers in the world."

   "We wouldn't be the most successful teenagers in the world," Violet retorted, triggering Louis' stare to deadpan.

   "Assuming we all get in some practice,  _maybe_  we won't sound like a bunch of hyenas. I bet we'd sound pretty okay," Marlon somewhat agreed before taking a swig, earning Louis' bewildered stare.

   "Pretty okay? Try fan-frickin'-tastic!" He was definitely drunk. "Hell, we'll be saying  _bon-voyage_ —" he leaned towards Clementine, wriggling his eyebrows at her for his use of basic French, "—to  _any_  competition that dares compete with the likeness of us."

   Violet grimaced at him over her shoulder.

   "Hey, I'd love to grab a guitar and tour the damn world, but no one's gonna want some kids from a correctional school playing at their venue," Marlon told him, again, taking another swig. "It's hard enough just trying to land an after school job nearby."

   "Dude," Louis grabbed his friend's shoulders from behind, causing him to slightly spill the liquid, "that wouldn't even matter when we're composing the greatest music to ever come out of this  _generation_ ," he exclaimed. "What do you wanna play, huh? Classical? Jazz? How about rock? Grunge? Hell, let's put it all together—!"

   "He's right," Violet peered back at Louis. "They wouldn't want a bunch of fucked up kids trashing their stage or raiding their bar."

   "Why the hell would we do that?" Louis grimaced.

   "We wouldn't," she replied. "But they'll think we would. Just like everyone else."

   Quickly, the air amongst the kids soured.

   "That guy at the mall was a piece of shit," Marlon declared as Louis' hands fell from his shoulders.

   "Yeah, well, so are a lot of other people," Violet continued grimly. "They think they just  _know_  what we are by looking at us. As long as we're Ericson kids, all we are is just troubled fucking youth." She then shook her head, scoffing. "Can't believe that douche bag really thought you were stealing."

   Clementine's eyes widened.

   "It doesn't bother me anymore," Louis admitted, his eyes narrowing in at the ground.

   "I've heard some racist shit but… goddamn. I've never wanted to knock a guy on his ass so badly," Marlon sputtered through his bitter recalling.

   "He was just some trailer trash redneck," Violet spat, causing Marlon to doubletake.

   "Hey.  _I'm_  trailer trash," he said.

   "So am I," she replied, "but at least we're not racist fucking assholes."

   Clementine caught Louis' bitter gaze peeking at her as she listened in. What apparently "didn't bother" him anymore surely had the opposite effect on his face. She wasn't an idiot. She understood what had went down and why.

   "My foster dad's family owns a pharmacy," Clementine sporadically chimed in. "His brother got his keys jammed in the door and couldn't get it open for a while. Some old white lady called the cops on him," she said, watching Louis' stare soften. "She thought he was breaking in, even with his uniform on."

   "God, people are so shitty," Violet huffed.

   "They sure are," she agreed.

   "Well," Louis began, his smile slowly regaining, "shitty people or not, it still doesn't mean we can't start a band."

   The look on Violet's face told him he was a moron without her having to even say it.

   "We're not the first group of kids to wanna start a garage band, you know," she told him. "Shit, we'd probably be the last considering how downhill alt rock has gone."

   "You also don't have a garage," Clementine added.

   "Yeah, and then what would we call it, huh?" Marlon asked, looking between his friends as he took in another swig.

   "Uh, how about… Disciplinary School Band?" Louis painfully suggested.

   "That's so bad," Violet chuffed out a laugh.

   "It's  _precise_ ," he retorted.

   "And bad," she insisted.

   "Here," Marlon handed the bottle back to Louis. "I'm gonna take a leak."

   "Gross," Violet hissed as he deviated from the stream, the group halting to wait for him.

   "Charming as ever, my dear friend," Louis quipped.

   "Just drink the damn booze. Maybe you'll come up with a better band name," Marlon bit back.

   Louis' brows curved with urgency.

   "How about  _you_  drink… you know, your piss! Yeah! And think of a better name!" he spouted out after him, pointing towards the direction his friend had disappeared into. The girls stood there in silence, staring at the boy in disgust as he gradually retreated into himself.

   "That…" Violet appeared dumbfounded, shaking her head in astonishment. " _Sarah_  could make a better comeback than that."

   "My dog could," Clementine chimed in.

   "Okay,  _masters_  of chucklesome retorts," Louis defended. "I'd like to see either of you make a better comeback than  _that_."

   "You have a mullet," Clementine suggested with a shrug.

   "I'd punch you but I wouldn't want your acne pus on my fist," Violet continued.

   "No, we can't name the band the KluKluxKlan—"

   "Okay, okay!" Louis held his hands up, inviting silence before he then sighed and shook his head.

   Eventually Marlon reappeared from the bushes to lead the group once again. As the entire lake came into view, the crummy shack situated just beside it, Clementine blinked through the darkness to admire how cosily run-down it looked. Just beside the small, wooden bridge sat an abandoned, beat down pickup truck. She wondered why no one used it to get out of this place, but chalked it up to the lack of knowledge the kids might have had.

   "We call it 'the safe haven'," Marlon introduced as they approached the little shack beside the lake. "Even Ericson's can get a little too much sometimes," he leaned in and told her.

   "Try all the time," Clementine replied, before her eyes drew back to the truck. "Is this thing totally busted?" she asked as she peaked into the window.

   "Well, the carburettor is," Violet responded though a sigh. "Tyres are flat, transmission is fucked. It's not going anywhere without some serious fixing."

   "Besides, do any of us even know how to drive?" Louis proposed before taking another sip from the bottle. Marlon shrugged.

   "Driven tractors before," he admitted.

   "How surprising," Violet offhandedly replied.

   "Thinking of going somewhere, Clem?" Louis asked as he approached her, offering her the bottle. Clementine pursed her lips and grabbed it, crossing her free arm over her abdomen. The liquor sure wasn't sitting right.

   "Maybe…" she shrugged, before taking a glance at the bottle again. Snuffing any fear of puking on Louis right then and there, she hesitantly raised the bottle to her lips and took another sip.

   "Well, you can't leave just yet," Marlon piped up as he approached the two. "We're havin' fun with you around. It'd be a shame to see you leave after not even a week."

   "I second that," Louis nervously agreed, offering a hesitant giggle afterwards.

   "Yeah, well…" Clementine began to think to herself. After sneaking out of a boarding school and doing the whole underage drinking thing, all arrows were pointing to a lengthy, gruelling rehabilitation at Ericson's. "Maybe I'm not leaving just yet."

   "Good," Marlon grinned, "because you also have the booze, and I'm not letting you run off with that," he said, taking the bottle from her hands.

   "Are we going in the water or what?" Violet appeared from behind the pair with her usual scowl upon her face. "I'm not here just to listen to you all mumble like drunks."

   "Uh, isn't it a little cold for that?" Clementine blinked confusedly at her.

   "Oh, we don't actually jump in," Louis began to clarify.

   "We only put our legs in. Stay around the shallow bits," Violet continued. "You know… walk up the lake, try and… catch the fish," her voice quietened with every word she spoke, almost as if she realised what she was saying wasn't a typical teenage pastime.

   "…Why?" she quirked an eyebrow.

   "Shit, because it's fun, Clementine," Marlon huffed an obvious laugh, taking yet another swig before handing the bottle to Louis.

   "And kinda tradition," Louis added as Marlon stripped himself of his shoes and socks, rolling the ends of his pants up. "It used to look like a battle-royale when all of us showed up. Like a hearty war at sea!" he triumphantly spoke, raising himself on his toes.

   "Pff-yeah, until Mitch elbowed you in the mouth and you freaked out because you thought you bit your tongue off," Violet snorted, planting her hand on his shoulder to prop herself up as she took off her boots. "Now, we have to be  _gentle_ so your rich ass family won't have to pay for a tongue transplant next time."

   "First of all, we established it wasn't my tongue. And secondly, I think that's a very reasonable request after getting your tooth chipped!" he snapped, folding his arms. "Violently, might I add!"

   "But you're alive, aren't you?" she sarcastically smiled with over-enthusiasm.

   "Who knows? Maybe next time the tooth will lodge right into my brain," he bitterly replied. "What are you gonna do when I'm walkin' around here like a zombie, huh? Tooth in brain and everything?"

   Clementine began to grin.

   "Gotta put you down, I guess," Violet smirked, flinging her sock at her friend. Louis flailed his hand, trying to whack the sock out of his visuals before folding his arms.

   "Or I'll just eat you and turn you into one of me. A tooth-brained zombie."

   "Enough weirdo talk. Let's get our asses over there!" Marlon impatiently encouraged as he walked backward to the lake.

   Clementine watched as Marlon and Violet took off and running to the lake. By the time Louis had just managed to start rolling up his jeans, he noticed Clementine hadn't budged a single inch from her position. He glanced up at her expectantly, wobbling for a moment, before standing back up normally.

   "Are… you joining us?" he asked, watching her sigh as she watched the others enter the lake.

   "It's either that, or I awkwardly sit on the ground like a loser and watch from afar," she replied, shaking her head.

   Louis glanced over at his friends for a moment, seeing them splash water in each other's faces as expected. It sure looked fun, but if Clementine wasn't in the mood for numbingly cold water, then what fun would she be having all alone on the shore? His gaze then turned back to her, and for a short, brief moment, he watched her stare off into the lake with an almost expressionless face. Hard to read, he pegged her.

   "I can stay back here with you," he compromised, his words spoken assuringly. "If you want… that is. We can be losers together, right there," he pointed to the ground beside the shack, "that should be distant enough."

   Clementine's wide eyes met his gaze. That was… sweet of him. But a chuckle soon overcame her, and her seemingly reclused, folded arms had fallen.

   "I was joking," she said through an incredulous laugh. "It's not like I was actually going to sit back here and watch. I'm… I'm  _joining_  you guys, yeah."

   Feeling foolish, Louis let out a jittery " _oh-right-yeah_ " before scratching the back of his neck.

   "But… thank you…" Clementine's brows began to curve uneasily. The more she looked at him, the harder eye contact became. She fidgeted with her fingers. "I think… um, it's very…  _friendly…_  of you."

   She was definitely drunk.

   As his grin softly began to reappear on his face, he quickly realised the bottle was still in his hand. Clementine? Being nice to  _him?_  He huffed a restrained laugh.

   "I can drink to that," he declared. He graciously leaned his head back and took a swig. She watched him wipe any spilled contents from his mouth and offer the bottle to her, a cheesy smile and a quick giggle at play.

   "Then I guess so can I," she agreed with a budding grin, taking the bottle and sipping from it as well.

   Louis waited for her with his hands planted nervously on his hips as she took her sneakers off, rolled up her jeans, and stood back up.

   "You know, I actually don't hate the cold water," he told her as they strolled towards the lake, aimlessly glancing over the bottle that was in his hand once again. "It's like a nice surprise."

   "But your legs go numb?" she responded with a slight grimace. "And your body temperature freaks out because it doesn't know if you're cold or not."

   "Like I said, a  _nice_   _surprise_ ," he echoed.

_Right… weirdo._

   When they reached the lake, the pair paused for a moment and located just how far along the shore the others had gone. Seeing they were knee deep in the water, it prompted Clementine to roll the ends of her jeans up even more, and as she leaned back up, a brave Louis had appeared in front of her, hand extended out to guide her into the lake.

   "Need a hand?" he offered almost effortlessly, seeming a little too nonchalant against the cold water.

   Clementine huffed as she walked into the water and right past him, making her way in the other's direction.

   "Alright. I get it. Not so easy," he innocently shrugged, his grin slick as his eyes followed her.

   "Easy?" she glanced back at him, halting in the water.

   Louis froze.

   "Oh, I don't— not like, I didn't mean I wanted  _you_  to be easy or anything, I—heh, I don't want you to be anything, you know, just… uh…" he sighed, "just you."

   Clementine's eyes narrowed in on him for a moment. Call it the kindness of inebriation, but she didn't exactly feel like ripping some guy with foot-in-mouth syndrome apart tonight. Besides, what threat did Louis exactly pose? Her daggered stare eventually softened into an unimpressed grin.

   "Do you usually get so tongue tied?" she asked, turning around to face him fully.

   As he mentally breathed a sigh of relief and deeming it safe to do so, he started to navigate towards her.

   "Actually, no…" he scratched the back of his head. "But there seems to be plenty of factors resulting in my stupidity tonight," he awkwardly replied. "It could be the rum, the cold lake, the fear of  _really_  getting a tooth in my brain, you… actually being here, and— oh, did I say the rum?"

   Once he was close enough, Clementine lead the way over to Violet and Marlon, a contorting frown upon her face as she analysed herself.

   "I get it, I'm not exactly the most welcoming person to be around," she wistfully admitted.

   "That's not… what I meant," he spoke awkwardly yet again.

   "Then?" she turned back to look at him, confusion set upon her visage.

   Before he could muster up a reply that didn't sound so utterly desperate, Violet's incredulous voice had bellowed from further down the lake.

   "For fuck sake, Marlon, put it back!" she barked, backing away from him.

   Guffawing with a live, twitching fish in his hands, Marlon continued to shove the creature towards the girl's face.

   "What? Don't you want dinner?" he cackled, before it slipped right out of his hands and back into the lake.

   "Wow, he's really drunk," Clementine commented, a feat of hilarity striking her.

   "As long as he's happy this time, I've got no qualms about it," Louis dolefully replied, his lips struggling to radiate a convincing smile as he stared intently at his friend.

   Clementine glanced up at him, her lips parted ever so slightly.

   "What does that mean?" she curiously pressed.

   He continued to watch his friend almost sorrowfully before shaking his head. Louis took another sip of the rum, swallowed, and held the bottle against the moonlight to check it. Glancing down at the girl beside him, his hand gestured toward her.

   "Last sip, you have it."

   "You don't want it?" she asked.

   "Nah," he shook his head. "Vi's not having any and Marlon looks like he's had enough for tonight. It's all you," he told her, his commonplace grin making a return amongst his now dulled attitude.

   As she took the bottle, her curious gaze set upon him. Something didn't seem right.

   "Maybe it's not my place to ask, but… are you okay?" she quietly asked, earning his sigh.

   "Yeah. I will be," he replied, his brows curving with anguish as he stared into the water below him. "I've… been thinking about what Vi said before. About people only seeing us as reckless, chaotic kids. It's been this…  _restrictive_  label for us for years. I mean, to me, being inside Ericson's just feels like home now. It doesn't feel like I'm in some prison full of kids that'll kill me in a shooting spree, or dissect their neighbour's cat anymore—"

   She grimaced.

   "—Everyone seems like more of a person rather than a psychopath. But the whole world would rather see us as society's failures, like we're bad sons and daughters," he told her. "You know, we're sent to Ericson's to get better. And we are. We may not be the best people, but we're better now than when we first started off," he sighed once again. "But like Vi said… no one wants to believe it."

   Clementine couldn't tell if it were her legs that were numb, or really her mind. The type of person he was describing was the exact person she let herself become; someone who thought the Ericson's kids were just a bunch of undesirables. A bunch of nobodies. Children doomed. How could she let herself believe an idea she knew impacted her directly? She loathed the people who only saw her with tunnel vision. Kids at school, teachers,  _Audrey_. It's all Audrey could ever see her as; something broken that couldn't be fixed, something she was forced to tend to for bragging rights or government money. She wasn't like Lee who, uncertain why to Clementine, believed there was hope for her to flourish.

_Lee. Damn it, Lee._

   Why couldn't she be more like him? Why did she have to be sucked into her childish defences and push his help away? It's no wonder she was sent to Ericson's. If her own foster father couldn't help her, then of course he had to find people who could. And now, because of her propensity to disappoint the people around her, she had plastered the very same label that plagued every student who walked the halls of Ericson's.

   She was troubled youth.

   When Clementine reeled herself out of her moment of realisation, she looked to Louis with curiosity.

   "Is that why you tried speaking to me when I first got here? At the lockers?" she asked him.

   "Uh, when you totally ignored me?" he began to laugh.

   "I didn't look like a psychopath to you?" she further questioned as he shook his head.

   "I figured you were scared and alone, like everyone is when they first arrive. It takes a while to realize not everyone wants to disembowel you," he huffed. "But you just walked off, it was like you  _wanted_  to be alone."

   "Well… I did," she admitted. "I didn't really talk much to anyone, almost at all. Guess I was scared of being associated with everyone – all the… troubled youth," she sighed.

   "You and me both," he sorrowfully replied, staring at his friends once again. "We can't let it define us, though. That's what I try to tell them. If we don't prove that we aren't, then they'll never stop thinking we are."

   "Fear holds us back," she posed.

   "Yeah, well, I'm sick of fear," he suddenly began to grin again, looking down at her. "Fear ain't  _shit_."

   Involuntarily, a grin of encouragement eased onto her face.

   "Well, whenever my little brother's scared about something – you know, the kid stuff? Like swimming in the deep end or doing a presentation in class – I ask him what we do when fear starts to take over," she began.

   "What do we do?" he quirked his brow.

   "We say fuck off to fear," she shrugged carelessly with a smirk. "And we do what needs to be done."

   "Classy," he said, causing the girl to read a little too heavily into his sarcasm. Her shoulders faltered. Shit, maybe she was being too abrasive again _._  Great, there went all the effort she put into not being— "I like it."

   Her head snapped up to him, a stupid, dumbfound look appearing on her face.  _He liked it._ Clementine quickly wiped over her deer-in-headlights expression with one of solidity and aloofness. He didn't need to know how incomprehensibly shocking it was for him to simply like something she said. It was ridiculous. It was so miniscule. He couldn't be that important. Why was  _that_  out of all the things Louis had said the one to make her peer up at him like never before?

   As she ruminated what she considered to be a short, freakish experience, the sudden splash and yelp from further away caught her attention. She watched as Violet surprised Marlon with a powerful push into the freezing water, sending him down in a tumbling heap.

   "How's the water down there?" she taunted him, grinning as she stood back and folded her arms triumphantly.

   "Oh yeah?"

   Marlon shot up from the water and charged towards Violet, giving her little time to try to avoid him. Only, she failed, and into the water the girl went as Marlon tackled her. With a grin plastered on his face, Louis stealthily planted his arm around Clementine's shoulders, gripping tightly, and looked to the girl menacingly. Whether it was the rum or his unusual bouts of confidence, he was more than terrifyingly relieved that he worked up the courage to even touch her.

   "You scared of the water?" he not-so-innocently asked.

   "Are you scared of dying?" she glared up at him.

   Scoffing, Louis tried to hide his nervous laughter.

   "I'm thinking you're a little scared of the water there, Clem," he taunted her.

   "Louis…" she warned, her eyes flickering to and from him.

   "Well, fear not! As today, we're going to exceed your deepest fears!"

   "No, Louis, I—"

   "Today, we are going to look the abyss right in the eye—!"

   "You aren't listening—!"

   "With our middle fingers up high!"

   "Louis!"

   "And we're going to swim right into the deep end!" he extravagantly announced.

   Before he could blabber any longer, Clementine urgently shrugged the boy off her.

   "Louis, move!" she told him, but her words seemed to have fallen upon his perplexedly deaf ears. He stared at her, dumbfounded, before he suddenly met the water with a chaotic thud.

   " _Hurgh!_ "

   "Aha!" Violet cheered as she tackled him, sending the both of them into the shallow, splashing mess. Planted on top of him, Violet tried her hardest not to let him get up, continuing to wrestle with him.

   "Violet…! What… the fuck?!" he sputtered against the struggle, grappling with the girl as she tried to keep him down.

   "What a nice surprise," Clementine smirked down at him, earning his deadpan. "Oh yeah? Well, your spontaneous attacks are no match for my double victim take down!" he declared with determination.

   Clementine raised her brows.

   "Try it," she challenged, folding her arms.

   With a push here and a shove there, Louis flung Violet off of him and into the water beside him.

   "Hey!" Violet barked.

   "Oh, shit," Clementine muttered, her eyes widening as he began to stand up.

   Louis drew closer to her, causing her to back away, when an unlikely hero stepped into the mix. Marlon spear tackled his friend back into the water with a lot more force than Violet ever could. Incidentally, Violet cackled along with Clementine's shocked laughter.

   Their childish antics had pulled her right out of her detached behaviour, even if it was for a short moment. She felt somewhat like a kid again, messing around and laughing with friends. Just like it was, well… before what happened, happened. But as bizarre as it was, it was liberating to laugh with people being charged at and thrown into cold water. They were doing whatever the hell they wanted and making a game of it, what wasn't fun about that?

   "Are you joining us or what?" Violet beckoned, now on her feet and approaching her.

   She kept Violet facing forward, not allowing her to possibly get the sneak on her from behind. Years of watching out for AJ jumping on her for a surprise piggy back had made it basically instinctual to keep people in plain sight.

   "Do I have a choice in the matter?" Clementine dawdled with a shrug, walking cautiously in an imaginary circle with the girl.

   "It's tradition after all," Violet grinned, tilting her head for a moment.

   "If I do this… it won't be prett—"

   Before she could get her words out, a shockingly cold presence wrapped their arms around her from behind, trapping her in their vice-like grip.

   "How about we bring the water to you?" Marlon announced, laughing as she squirmed in his arms.

   "Holy shit— you're so cold!" her eyes widened in terror. "Let go of me!"

   "Not a chance!" he chuckled. But to her, there was a chance, and before long, her squirming turned into an elbow to the gut and a kick to the shin, forcing Marlon to let go of her as he doubled over in pain.

   "Gah—shit…" he spoke breathlessly as Clementine scrambled beside Violet, clinging onto her own shoulders for warmth.

   "She  _did_  tell you to let go," Violet snickered, her hand resting on her hip.

   "Yeah… yeah, she did…" he replied, shaking his head.

   "Oh, shit. Did you just get served by Clem?" Louis teased through a huff, ringing out the end of his soaked shirt.

   "Can… can you breathe?" Clementine curiously asked.

   With a quick nod, Marlon coughed for a moment before standing back up.

   "Not gonna lie, I didn't think you would feel it," Violet commented, somewhat impressed.

   "I, uh, I think we should take a break, huh?" Marlon painfully suggested. "Who's up for that?"

   "Uh, me? After being continuously wailed on?" Louis raised his hand, staring at his best friend pointedly.

   "A break it is, then."

   As Marlon regained his composure and led the group back to shore, the group tiresomely continued to ring the water out of their clothes. Upon stepping back onto shore, Clementine sat down to put her socks and sneakers back on. But when the other three trudged past her and their belongings, her head snapped up curiously, watching them sit their drained bodies beside the stream like they'd just came home from school and slumped down on the couch. She found it odd that they were careless of their shoes as if it really were their own home. Then again, who was hiding out in the middle of absolute no where trying to steal the shoes of teenagers? No one.

   … _Probably_.

   With her head buzzing and her vision tiring, Clementine laced her shoes and stood up, joining the group as they sat by the stream. She placed herself beside Marlon and Violet as they had a partially coherent conversation – partly due to the boy's inebriation – about tomorrow's assembly. Clementine's hands raised to rub the drowsiness from her eyes, and as soon as they came down, was greeted by an eager Louis holding up a deck of playing cards.

   "It's time," he ominously spoke, plotting himself down beside Marlon.

   "This'll be fun to watch," Violet quipped.

   "What are we playing?" asked a sobering Clementine, her brows furrowing at his hands as he shuffled the cards.

   "War. The oldest game around. A game played by man and beast alike. The only game there is," Louis replied ominously, his brow quirking at the girl.

   Clementine deadpanned at him, visibly lost.

   "It's easy," Violet began to clarify. "Everyone gets a stack of cards, everyone flips one over. Highest card wins."

   "Wins what?" she asked.

   "A question to ask you," Marlon answered, earning the girl's worried gaze. "Hey, it's alright. You don't have to answer any questions you don't feel like answering," he held his hands up. "We just wanna get to know you better. This is a friendly game, alright? If you win, you get to ask us whatever you want."

   Louis divided the deck into four parts, giving each player their own stack. He leaned back and placed his hand on his deck, signalling for everyone else to do the same. Clementine placed her fingers on a card and flipped it over onto the dirt.

   Ace of hearts.

   She glanced at Violet's card.

   Four of diamonds.

   She then glanced at Marlon's card.

   Nine of spades.

   Then, Louis'.

   King of Hearts.

   "Shit," she muttered, gazing up at him as she awaited his question. He grinned eagerly at her for a moment before his expression collapsed, his hand retracting to rub the back of his neck.

   "So, you… uh…" he began to dawdle, avoiding eye contact with her.

   "C'mon, spit it out," Violet beckoned.

   "Ever… ever had a—um, a boyfriend?" he eventually asked, his eyes flickering between the her card and the ground.

   " _Ohhh_  my  _god_ ," Violet rolled her eyes, leaning back on her palm.

   Cheeks flushing, Clementine promptly glared at him.  _Why the hell would he ask that?_

   "What? It's a perfectly valid question," he defended, his eyes narrowing in on his friend.

_No! It's not!  
_

   "More like a perfectly lame one," she retorted.

   "And it's totally normal  _not_  to have," Louis turned to Clementine again, his expression softening. "I haven't, by the way."

   "What—you? Without a boyfriend?!" Marlon exclaimed through his creeping grin.

   "You're funny," he deadpanned.

   Clementine shook her head, sighing at how intrusive the topic was. But, well, the game was to answer questions, so answer them she shall.

   "Flings… here and there. Nothing else," she awkwardly responded.

   "Nothing else?" Louis questioned further, leaning slightly forward in anticipation.

   " _Nothing_  else," her tone firmed up.

   Marlon placed his hand atop his deck, signalling to the rest of the group to do the same. When the cards were flipped, the tables had turned. Clementine had the highest. In order to embark on her petty little form of revenge, she wanted to make Louis feel as put on the spot as she was. She wanted to make him feel  _so_  embarrassed, it felt like his guts were being rearranged inside his body. Like all his blood from rushed to his cheeks so fast his head exploded. So, she asked the first invasive question that came to her drunken mind.

   "You win," Louis pointed out. "So, what's your—"

   "Popped any cherries?" she spurted out, scrutinizing him as Marlon sputtered with laughter.

   Alongside the growing irritation from Marlon's cackles, Louis could only blink in utter shock of what she asked.

   Mission accomplished.

   "Any… any what—?"

   "She's asking if you've screwed anyone," Violet frustratedly clarified, slightly amused by his now reddening cheeks. "God, don't you know how to talk like anything other than a pompous philosophy professor?"

   Irked by the unwanted spectacle on his love life, Louis rolled his eyes with a sharp sigh.

   "Fine. No. I haven't  _screwed_  anyone. I am, in fact, a virgin," he confidently replied. "A pure, innocent  _virgin_."

   "Jesus, Lou—" Marlon managed to say amidst his incessant laughter.

   "Keep digging the hole deeper, why don't you?" Violet poked through her giggles.

   "Well, that's sad," Clementine replied with a smirk, secretly impressed by his somewhat mediocre bravery.

   "Is that an implication that you  _aren't?_ " Louis questioned curiously.

   "Now this is interesting," Marlon raised a brow.

   "You can ask  _that_  when it's your turn," she told him, placing her hand on her deck.

   When the heat died down, the cards were flipped again, pegging Marlon as the winner and Clementine as the unfortunate loser by default. If he were anything like Louis when it came to asking questions, then this wasn't going to be fun.

   "Alright, I'll make this one easy on you," he told her. "What was, uh… shit, I don't know, the weirdest dream you've ever had?" he asked her.

   "Uh…" she shrugged, glancing away as she started to think. Suddenly, her expression dropped. "Oh…  _that_  one," she muttered to herself. "Um… when I was like, four or five, I had a dream where I was floating in space—you know… naked, and instead of the planets being  _planets_ , they were all… Disco Broccoli."

   "The… cartoon?" Violet squinted.

   "Yeah," she nodded, "Disco Broccoli and His Chive Talkin' Friends."

   "You were swimming naked in space with giant cartoon broccolis?" Louis questioned in disbelief.

   "What? I was  _five_."

   "Alright, alright. Let's pick up," Marlon declared.

   The group placed their hands on their cards and flipped them over, assessing the winner to be Louis.

   "I win again," he proudly declared, his smug expression falling when Violet ushered him to hurry up. "Got any nicknames?" he asked.

   Clementine paused for a moment, instantly recalling the name Lee had grown to affectionately refer to her as over the years.

 _Sweet pea…_  she thought to herself, before grimacing.  _Well, that's fucking embarrassing.  
_

   "No."

   "Really?" he quirked an eyebrow. "Not even one?"

   "None," she insisted.

   "Well, we need to work on that asap," he stated with a point of his finger. "Starting with Clemster—"

   "Louis, shut up and flip your damn card," Violet interjected, glaring at him as she placed her hand on her deck.

   As the cards were flipped again, Violet praised herself as the winner.

   "Victory Violet," she smirked to herself. "So, Clem… who do you think is gonna be expelled first?"

   The girl shrugged.

   "Probably me," she answered.

   "Has it happened before?" Marlon asked.

   "No," she shook her head, "but apparently, I have a habit of ruining all the things that try to make me better, so… either me, or Louis," she then blinked. "You know what? Definitely Louis."

   "Definitely," Violet agreed.

   "Definitely," Marlon nodded.

   "Definitely," Louis shrugged, earning the unexpectant gazes of his friends. "What? I stole alcohol from the Headmaster, I have  _tons_  of other stupid decisions in my arsenal."

   "Oh yeah, we know," Violet sarcastically reassured him.

   As the cards flipped, Marlon held his up as he assumed the winning role.

   "How are you liking Ericson's so far?" he asked, watching her brows furrow in. She sighed, sifting through the troubles she had gone through the last four days. The answer may have been one he didn't want to hear about his beloved boarding school, but it was the truth. And that's all Clementine could tell him.

   "You want the truth?" she glanced around the group.

   "Preferably," Louis replied.

   "I hate it," she started, "I'm no where near my family, I have  _no_  privacy, the food here is lame… It's like I'm stuck in a prison. But…" she sighed again, barely shrugging her shoulders. "You guys are… cool. Cooler than I thought. And you're making it a little easier to be here. So, yeah."

   A now sobering Clementine took in a deep breath, letting her shoulders sink as she exhaled and glanced back up at the group.

   "I take it you haven't met anyone like us back in little old Macon?" Louis asked her, leaning back on his hands.

   Truthfully, she hadn't. The people here seemed way too big for little old Macon.

   "No," she shook her head. "I haven't."

   "I like it," Louis told her. "That you're taking comfort in us, I mean."

   "We appreciate it," Marlon agreed. "We appreciate that you're opening up. I think we get it better than anyone that it takes a lot of guts to do that, especially to people you've only known for a few days."

   Violet nodded at the girl.

   "Takes courage," the corner of her lips tugged.

   What… was this – this feeling burning up inside of her? Why was this happening? Part of her wanted to reject it, but the other part was practically screaming to give this a chance. This was the start of, well, friendship. Bizarre, eccentric, and unruly friendship. In her head laid a concoction of overwhelming emotions, yet all she could respond with was null. Her eyes sat wide and her lips parted as she looked to them all; Violet's hard stare, Louis' curious gaze, Marlon's assured look. For the first time ever… Clementine had nothing to say.

   Louis leaned towards Marlon, his hand not-so-subtly raising to his face.

   "I think we broke her," he whispered quite loudly, earning her quick descend into a deadpan stare.

   "I—No, you just…" she began to shake her head. "Thank you… I guess. Thanks," she gave the group a nod.  
Their expressions lifted as Clementine's customary scowl had settled into a lighter, a little more confused smile. Louis couldn't help but pretend he wasn't marvelling at it, even past the voice of Marlon calling for the next round to happen. It seemed to fit her face better than any frown ever could, like a puzzle piece that sat just in the right place.

   "Lou—"

   It wasn't like the smiles she gave when he told some corny, bombastic joke.

   "Louis—"

   Or the ones she gave right after insulting him to his face.

   "Louis, wake the hell up—"

   This time, her entire face lit up like—

   "Louis!" Marlon barked at him, shoving his shoulder somewhat roughly.

   His eyes snapped away from hers as the peered at him in confusion.

   "What? Uh… what?" he stammered.

   "The  _game_ , Louis," Violet emphasised, tapping on her deck of cards.

   "Right, yeah," he shook his head, exhaling in perplexity.

   The group flipped their cards once again, and as the winner was determined, Clementine came out on top.

   "I don't mean to sound…  _abrasive_ ," Clementine started, glancing at Marlon, "but what's with you and Brody? Are you two a thing?"

   Marlon shrugged, seeming indifferent to her question.

   "Yeah, we're dating," he answered.

   "Are you sure?" she further probed. "From what I've seen, you guys always seem pissed at each other."

   "You just haven't seen enough, then," he replied through his now gaining grin. "Brody's… great. Really. It's just that, you know, like every couple, we get on each other's bad side sometimes," he told her with an innocent shrug, but then nudged his elbow into Louis' arm. "But, hey, we're Ericson boys. No one loves a good challenge more than us, huh, Lou?" he chuffed out a laugh as Louis' wide eyes were unfaltering.

   He huffed out an awkward chuckle as if he realised something, his eyes flickering between Clementine and the ground. But when he saw her curious expression fall into scrutiny, he knew she realised the exact same thing. The exact same conversation. The exact same words.

   It was unmistakable.

_"And you wanna know something else? I like a challenge."  
_

_"That doesn't sound creepy at all."  
_

   "A challenge?" Clementine's brows raised.

   "I'll admit, at this school? There's tougher cookies to be cracked," Marlon told her, watching her head nod slowly but surely.

   "I bet so," she replied, her gaze unmoving from Louis.

   The others didn't seem to notice just how intensely she set upon the boy. A challenge? A  _challenge?_  Did she look like a goddamn sudoku puzzle? Did he and Marlon set up some stupid, elaborate bet? Was she just the target of these boys' cheap, tawdry prank? Could she dare call it a divine case of coincidence, or was Louis' slip ups starting to make sense?  _Of course they were_. She knew it was too good to be true. Someone patient and friendly? With  _her?_  It was stupendous of her to believe there wasn't an ulterior motive to his conviviality. He was a walking-talking, buoyant happy face – who the hell is a walking-talking, buoyant happy face?!

   "Queen of Hearts, Vi. It's all yours," Marlon's voice had reeled Clementine out of her simmering rumination, prompting her to hastily flip her card just as the others already had.

   "Actually, I got one for Louis," Violet began, readjusting sitting position. "If Clem doesn't mind."

   "Not a problem," she jutted through her semi-clenched teeth, keeping her heated gaze on Louis.

   "You talk to a lot of girls, doing your whole loud, dramatic, clown-bullshit and whatnot—"

   "Socialising," Louis deadpanned at her.

   "And yet in the two years that you've been here, you've never shacked up with any of them. So why is that?" she curiously asked, watching the boy shrug. "I mean, I know why, 'cause you'd probably make her blow her brains out. But what's  _your_  reason?" she smirked.

   Sighing at her unruliness, Louis shrugged.

   "As cruel as it sounds, I guess I just haven't met anyone that wasn't… boring," he replied truthfully. "Everyone's cool and all, but no one's really, you know," he glanced away, his eyes narrowing at the ground, "caught my eye before." It were almost as if he felt embarrassed to reveal such intimate thoughts, even if it were to his most trusted friends. But ultimately, his embarrassment was the least of Clementine's concerns.

   "Aww, not even  _meee?_ " Marlon batted his eyelashes as he nudged Louis, earning his grimace and Violet's scoff.

   "Well, it's kind of hard not to be boring when you're going a thousand miles a minute," she quipped with a roll of her eyes.

   Signalling the end of the conversation, the group flipped their cards again. As Clementine's glare felt immovable from Louis, he couldn't help but take quick, cautious glances at her.

   "Your round, Clem," Violet told her, checking the cards.

   If he was going to consider her a challenge, then she sure as hell was going to be one he couldn't win.

   "Am I boring to you?" she asked abruptly, her scrutinous, anticipating eyes impaling through his.

   "To who…?" Marlon mumbled, following her stare as it landed on Louis. "Oh."

   "I—uh, boring? I…" he began to awkwardly laugh, scratching the back of his head. But when he noticed she didn't look as peaceful as she did before, he felt cold with uneasiness. When he came to realise what her question meant, and how seriously she wanted it answered, he knew he could no longer dawdle. His arm eventually dropped and his expression matured, his eyes avoiding contact with hers. "No. No you are not boring," he stiffly replied.

 _Bullshit_.

   "I barely talk to anyone," she mentioned.

   "Yeah, I know," he rolled his eyes, seemingly at himself. "And that makes you all the more interesting."

   Unsure of whether to believe him, Clementine sat in stirring silence, her eyes fixating on the ground as she wallowed in her unclarity. People often said you could cut through tension with a knife, but neither Violet nor Marlon thought anything short of a hacksaw would do the trick. It was awkward – it had to be. Between them was a silent conflict, the revoking of trust. What wasn't awkward about that? No matter how conflicted and defensive Clementine was, or how flustered and put on the spot Louis was, the thickening silence was more overwhelming than a scream could ever be.

   "O-kaaay…" Violet cleared her throat. "We should—um, head back… now…"

   Marlon nodded, wide eyed and lost within the situation.

   "Uhhh—yeah, yeah," he agreed. "It's getting late. We gotta get back before lights out," he said, standing up and dusting himself off.

   The group, one by one, began to stand up and head over to the spot they dumped their shoes. Louis being the last to stand up, he noticed Clementine hadn't moved, it was almost like she hadn't realised they were beginning to leave at all. There she was, sitting on the ground she stared at, lost in a mental wrangle he wouldn't dare to even try imagining.

   With a cautious exhale, Louis extended his hand out to her, watching her snap back to reality and peer towards it. She debated with herself for a moment, wondering. Call it a moment of weakness, but she couldn't outright hate Louis like she could have so easily in the past. Like she thought before, what threat did he exactly pose? With the possibility being it was all a misunderstanding, was he more of a threat to her than her imploding, defensive self?  
Exhaling through her nose, Clementine took Louis' hand, letting him heave her up to her feet.

   "Thanks," she barely mumbled, trudging past him to get to the others.

* * *

   As the remaining Ericson's students scurried past night guards to their dorm rooms, fleeing from the mischief they had to pretend they weren't partaking in, Violet and Clementine parted ways with the boys and quietly walked back to their room. The girl could only imagine the hours she would be awake until allowing her thoughts to run rampant in her head. Could she continue letting herself open up to these people? Or should she retrogress and go back to basking in all her self-pity? On the comical side, it was almost like a video game. Trust, or don't trust Louis. She was the player, and she had a choice to make. How fun was it to question her own judgement?

   "What's on your mind?" Violet spoke up, glancing at her for a moment. Clementine kept her eyes forward.

   "Why do you ask?" she responded curtly, earning Violet's shrug.

   "Just looks like there's something on your mind," she explained, seeming unphased by the girl's defensiveness. "Maybe… Louis related," she continued in a mumble, her brows raising amusingly.

   "No," she bluntly replied. "Just tired."

   Violet nodded slowly, not pressing the matter as she tried to come up with another topic. She figured the girl could use some distracting.

   "Those lights we saw through the trees on our way back?" Violet turned to her. "That's the carnival. Usually stays in town for a couple of weeks. It's pretty fun."

   Clementine couldn't help but smile despite her mood. Just the word even brought her back to the memories she had at carnivals with Lee and Audrey. Better ones, different to what they were now.

   "Haven't been to one of those in a while," she told her.

   "Well," Violet exhaled, looking forward again. "I guess we'll be going pretty soon then," she softly smiled.

   As if on cue, Clementine gave her friend a smile as they ended up outside their door. That's what she could call her, right?

   Friend?


	7. emotion sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Friday night’s impactful game of War, Clementine deals with some inner turmoil and some Louis. Violet sets out to find out what wrong with Minerva. And old habits surely do die hard when a shaken Clementine acts out of impulse.

    **APRIL 12, 2003**

  
    She was the whirling gloom that physically weighed down his right side. As she walked beside him, a slight scowl pulling at her features, Louis thought strategically about what he should say to Violet’s silent distress. Not one to whistle in the halls or smile at a teacher; the girl always had such a melancholic aloofness to her, whether she was thinking about past troubles or what today’s cafeteria specials were, she never failed to look bored out of her mind. But it was something in the way her brows furrowed from time to time, her eyes stiffening with worry, that her uneasiness stuck out like a sore thumb. What approach was he going to take with his dearest friend? The soft yet serious attitude? Or the straightforward and helpful one?

 _How about… the one where you make her call you a dumbass?_  

  …Bingo.  
  
    “You know, we can’t look like the coolest kids at Ericson’s if you’re frowning,” Louis grinned at his friend, nudging into her as they trekked through the halls.   
  
    Violet’s response was one of a distinct, familiar eyeroll. Louis smirked with the slightest of satisfaction. He was getting somewhere.  
  
    “That’s the spirit!” he cheered. “I tend to  _sneer_  at the lower-class scum that  _awe_  at my levels of coolness they couldn’t dream to reach.”   
  
    When Violet opted to ignore his attempt at absurd conversation, his expression faltered. Where was the exasperated remark? The tiresome quip? Something was certainly wrong.   
  
    “Alright, so, uh… what’s wrong, Vi?” he asked her, his brows furrowing as students pushed past them.  
  
    “Don’t worry about it,” she shrugged him off, quickening her pace around the slower kids.  
  
    “You know that’s not gonna happen,” he responded, promptly following her.  
  
    “I said drop it, Louis,” Violet glared back at him.   
  
    “Not until you tell me what’s got you so down,” he spoke, his tone firming up as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Is it about yesterday?” he asked but garnered no response. “That Becca girl again?”  
  
    Violet scoffed.  
  
    “Please.”  
  
    “Okay, so… it’s about Minnie?” he finally pressed. Violet’s firm scowl suddenly faltered into a feat of worry, blinking at the ground she walked on. As she inhaled deeply, her fears orbiting her mind, she cleared her throat.  
  
    “Something’s up with her,” she quietly admitted, causing Louis to cock an eyebrow.  
  
    “What makes you say that?” he questioned, earning a mopey shrug from the girl as he now walked beside her.  
  
    “I don’t know, but it’s not good,” she replied through a sigh. “She keeps distancing herself and I… It’s starting to get to me.”  
  
    Louis paused for a moment, his eyes squinting in thought.  
  
    “She’s probably just rattled about finals. Something  _unrelated_  to you, her girlfriend, that she loves  _dearly_ ,” he tried assuring her. “Don’t think about it too much, alright? Soon enough, it’ll be all peaches and cream again and you can go back to grossing everyone out with your obscene amounts of PDA,” he grinned, satisfied at his attempt to cheer her up.  
  
    Violet’s glower had soon softened, a silent chuckle quickly coming over her. There was no one like Louis to dig her out of her bottomless ruts.   
  
    “At least I get some PDA,” she began to smirk, looking him up and down. “I don’t see your arm candy anywhere.”   
  
    “I think the girls here at Ericson’s are a little too sweet for my candy liking,” he told her, his expression evident with indifference as he assessed the passing girls in the hallway.   
  
    Violet stared at him, top lip curled.  
  
    “That’s the whole point of candy. It’s  _supposed_  to be sweet,” she confirmed as Louis tutted at her.   
  
    “I’m my own arm candy. And besides,” he folded his arms, “you’re not the sweetest gum drop yourself,” he nudged her, earning her smirk as they entered the assembly hall.  
  
    “Maybe some of us don’t want candy,” she mumbled as she glanced away, Louis turning to her.  
  
    “Which is exactly my point,” he told her, a confident finger up in the air. “Or maybe some of us like the gooey centre of the hard, jaw-breaking gum drop. Like  _Minerva_  does,” he nudged her once again, scouring the room for the girl herself.  
  
    “Are you saying I have a gooey centre?” Violet raised her brows at him.  
  
    “If the boot fits, Vi. If the boot fits,” he stared off into the distance, a satisfied smirk upon his face.  
  
    “I know a place my boot can fit.”  
  
    “Uh, no—” his brows furrowed cautiously, “that garage will remain empty, thank you,” he spoke with insistence, his now widened eyes searching the hall for a place to sit. When two tufts of red, shaggy hair caught his eye, he leant down to Violet’s level. “I think I see your girlfriend over there,” he said, continuing to search the assembly hall.  
  
    Violet sighed, scratching the back of her head. If she didn’t face the bull head on, she’d never get her answer. What point was there to beat around the bush? To temporarily soothe her anxieties? To live in la-la-land, pretending nothing was even wrong? That wasn’t how Violet played life. Violet needed truth. Violet needed  _reality_  – as dark and grimy as it got. It was foolish to juke herself. Minerva was her number one priority.  
  
    Despite her shaken nerves, curiosity edged the girl a little closer to the front seats Minerva and Sophie sat in.  
  
    “Shit. Time to make things awkward,” she mumbled, beginning to approach the area. But when the mass beside her was no longer following, she halted, looking back with confusion. “You coming?” she questioned while he peered around the back rows in search of something. Or  _someone_. “Lou?” she called to him again, but watched as his eyes clicked into action.  
  
    “I’ll see you after the assembly!” he assured her, making his way against the incoming students.  
  
    When a pair of narrowed, amber eyes returned his gaze from the last few rows, Louis was as mortified as he was awestruck. There she sat, arms folded, leg over the other, glaring at him from the back corner of the room. God, she had only been here not even a week and she was already managing to spike his heart rate.   
  
    Louis decided to smile at the girl, concluding that if he could come off as bubbly and positive as he could, then it had a good chance of rubbing off on her.  
  
    Clementine’s head shook, her eyes prominently glaring at him and only him.  
  
    He was wrong.  
  
    It wasn’t long before Louis took a breath of encouragement and made his way towards her, stepping past the legs of other students with a “hello” here and a “sorry” there to get to where she sat. She kept her gaze stern and forward, not daring to watch the ridiculousness play out beside her. When he finally got to the end of the row, he promptly stepped over her unmoving legs and took the last seat at the very end, slumping onto it with a satisfied sigh.   
  
    Clementine mentally groaned. Was she ever going to catch a break from this guy?  
  
    “There’s a lot of seats in this place,” she told him coldly, watching him shrug from her peripheral vision.  
  
    “But there’s only one next to you,” he replied, a prompt grin etching onto his face.  
  
    Clementine paused for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip. Was it fair to return his kindness with such vitriol?  _Of course it is… isn’t… shit_. She quietly sighed through her nose, her eyes deadpanning even further than they already had.  _Just take the bait_ , she thought to herself.  _Louis… probably isn’t going to hurt you. Maybe... possibly..._  
  
    “And here I was hoping the IT guy would take it,” she finally joked back, allowing her visage to slowly lighten up.   
  
    Louis sighed smoothly, propping his elbow up on the backrest.  
  
    “Can’t say I’m as charming as a man who wears socks with sandals, but I’ll admit,” he leaned in a little closer, “I have my moments.”  
  
    Clementine turned her head to face him, unphased by the close proximity, and raised an eyebrow of curiosity at him. It was only when he mimicked her did she realise how much of a fool she may have been behaving as. He was just… stupidly playful. The whole “I like a challenge” thing probably wasn’t as sinister as she assumed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Louis had the same interests as Marlon, they practically grew up together. Clementine  _wanted_  friends, she  _needed_  friends, and it wasn’t like she was in any position to be  _denying_  friends.   
  
    When his echoing expression couldn’t help but collapse into a cheesy smile and an accompanying giggle, a strange flutter in Clementine’s chest resonated, sending her controlled features into rampant concern. She was lucky enough to have his attention caught by Marlon tapping the microphone before he could see her face physically crumple. It could only be described as a sudden pang of dread overcoming her entire being while she gawked at him. A feeling as if the world was over. It wasn’t, the world wasn’t over, but whatever she was feeling surely told her a convincing otherwise.   
  
     _Oh shit, oh no.  
  
    _Surrounding students began to fall quiet as Marlon stood upon the podium, hands planted on top of it. With his confident, calm demeanour, it was like she couldn’t tell how terribly plastered he was last night. Marlon went on to deliver an encouraging speech about the end of the school year, final tests – the whole spiel. He was a natural at it, as if he’d done it before, many times, in fact. It was like he was performing almost, and it came as no doubt as to why Marlon was the Head of the Sophomore student body.   
  
    “A lot of people see the finish line and they slow up – finally, they’ve reached the end. They can relax. Well, that’s where they go wrong. You don’t slow down when you see the finish line, you speed up. You go the fastest your legs can take you because if not, it’s not a triumphant win. You’re walking, you’re catching your breath, you’re not giving your all. When it comes to finals, don’t slow down just because you can see the finish line. Go harder than you’ve ever gone. Study hard, study smart, and ace those exams.”  
  
    He seemed eerily fit for the role, but that didn’t stop Clementine’s overhead feelings of suspicion. The ‘bad day’ he supposedly had, the way he spoke to his own girlfriend… that  _ridiculous_  haircut.  
  
    “Seriously, what’s with the mullet?” Clementine uttered to Louis, her voice low as she grimaced up at the stage.  
  
    Louis shrugged.  
  
    “He likes it,” he simply replied. “He thinks it’s cool.”  
  
    “Has he looked into any reflective surface by any chance?” she quipped, earning Louis’ giggle.  
  
    “Unfortunately not. The Headmaster removed all mirrors and windows from the boys dorm room so Marlon wouldn’t have to see the horror of a haircut we all do,” he told her, a grin tugging at his lips. Clementine glanced up at him, mouth agape ever so slightly. “That was a joke. I was joking,” Louis revealed, his expression straightening out.  
  
    “Really? You were joking about that?” she began to smirk. “I couldn’t tell.”   
  
    “Yeah,” he spoke through his exhale, “I kinda do that. You know… the jokes and um, stuff… apparently it’s my thing.” Louis let out air he didn’t even know he’d been holding in, using his propped up hand to fiddle somewhat nervously with his hair.  
  
    Clementine wondered how he could sound so awkward and suave at the same time.  
  
    “I’m shocked,” she replied, moments before a teacher turned around in her seat and shushed them.   
  
    The pair averted their gazes in embarrassment as she turned back around, a restrained grin on both of their faces. When Louis eventually looked up to watch Marlon again, Clementine couldn’t help but take the chance to peek at the boy. It felt creepy to steal a glance, there was no doubt about it, but the flutter in her chest from before was worrying enough to try and coax it out of her again. Was it real? Was it delayed discomfort? What the hell was it?  
  
     _Puke._  
  
    Clementine’s eyes suddenly widened, her throat feeling as if it were closing up. Her mind raced back to last night’s game of War where he basically admitted to liking her. Liking  _her_. What was there to like? Is  _that_  why her chest fluttered before? Is that why she keeps failing to resist his jest? Because the memory pushed far back into her mind in a moment of outrage had subconsciously resurfaced? Shit, maybe she  _was_  going to barf.  
  
    Clementine abruptly stood from her seat, causing Louis to retract his arm from the backrest as the chair slightly jutted back.  
  
    “Bathroom,” she blurted out once he glanced up at her, perplexity riddling his features.  
  
    “Huh?”  
  
    “Need to throw up,” she stiffly replied. “Talk to you later.”  
  
    “ _Double_ huh?” he gawked at her reddening cheeks, turning around in his seat as she paced around the back and exited the auditorium.

* * *

_Clementine’s colourless gaze stuck to the bumper sticker-riddled car in front of them. For the early afternoon, you’d almost expect there to be no traffic at all instead of a forty-minute delay. There must have been a car accident on the highway, maybe a busted fire hydrant that everyone wanted to slow down to look at. It was probably the highlight of their day to see, something to go home to tell the wife and kids over dinner like the uneventful turds they were. Her eyes snapped to the ‘SHIT HAPPENS’ bumper sticker on the bottom right of the other car’s bumper._

_It sure does.  
  
    “I can’t believe I have to pick you up for the second fuckin’ time this year. Who do you think you are gettin’ into fights, huh? Superwoman? You think you’re Superwoman? Well, I’ll tell you in on a lil’ secret – Superwoman ain’t just beatin’ up kids for no good reason!”  
  
    Clementine almost forgot she was being scolded for a moment – blocking out Audrey’s nagging had become an acquired skill over the last couple years.   
  
    “Don’t listen to that dillweed. I didn’t just hit him out of nowhere, Audrey.”  
  
    The woman scoffed.  
  
    “You sure?” she glanced at her wildly. “That busted lip sure tells a different story—”  
  
    “He wouldn’t stop throwing thumb tacks at me. Thumb tacks,” she emphasised, leaning in at her foster mother.   
  
    “So you get up and tackle him in fron’ of everybody? Just because of a few thumb tacks?!” her voice grew in tone, bewilderment overcoming her.  
  
    “What was I supposed to do, help him aim for my eye?” she crossed her arms. “Those assholes hate me—!”  
  
    “Well, look at what you do to them! It’s no surprise they hate you,” Audrey retorted, striking silence in the young girl beside her as she glared into the bumper again. What purpose was there fighting the thought Audrey was hellbent on thinking? It seemed like nothing she said made any sort of change in her foster mother’s mind. Soon, a sigh left the woman’s mouth. “Can’t believe it. Suspended again. One more fight, and they expel you, Clementine. What’s Lee gonna say when I—”  
  
    “He called me an orphan,” she blurted, her breath hitching almost unnoticeably. With tables turned, it was now Audrey who fell silent against the ambience of muffled traffic. “That’s why I hit him.”  
  
    For a moment, Audrey’s uneasy gaze focused on the bumper as well.   
  
    “It’s just a name, Clementine—”   
  
    “No it’s fucking not,” her inflection bit back, eyes narrowing at the woman. “It’ll always be just a name to you because you’re not one. You have your real parents. But it’s not for me.”   
  
    “What, haven’t I been a real enough parent for you?” Audrey retorted, their molten glares locking onto each other. “I have to do everythin’ for you—”   
  
    “Stop! Stop doing that!” Clementine snapped, her voice raising hellishly. “You hold it over my head all the time – like _I’m _the one who should be grateful I get to keep your dirty fucking secret!” her teeth gritted. “You make me keep quiet to Lee by doing things for me so_ your _life can run smoothly! But it’s_ me _who has to sit in the middle of it and I’m fucking_ stuck _because you can’t just have one husband, you need a boyfriend to run to when being a parent gets too much!”  
  
    Audrey’s dumbstruck face glared forward as she halted to a sudden stop, appalled enough by the girl’s words to distract her from the ever going-and-stopping traffic.   
  
    “What in the hell makes you think you can talk like that to me, little girl?” Audrey watched with bubbling rage as Clementine scoffed, shaking her head in dismissal. “I do everythin’ for this goddamn family, you ain’t taking that for granted! Not under my fuckin’ roof!” she shook her head adamantly. “You should be ashamed of yourself for even _thinkin’ _this is about you. I don’t wanna hear another word about what you think or how you feel about what I do with my life. Not unless you wanna be another name in the system again. ‘Cause I’ll sure as hell make that happen, and this time, Lee won’t be savin’ your ass,” she spat, her mocking tone condescending the begrudged girl. This time, it was Audrey who scoffed with a shake of her head. “So fuckin’ disrespectful…” she tutted to herself.  
  
    Riddled with abhorrence as raged tears filled her eyes, Clementine forcefully opened the door to Audrey’s company car and shoved herself out of the vehicle. Striking disbelief in the woman, Audrey’s head spun wildly.  
  
    “Where the hell are you goin’? Get back in the car!” she called out to her. “Clem? Clem!”  
  
    As the girl gripped the door, she peered back into the car.  
  
    “Going to cheat on my husband,” she pushed through her gritted teeth, soon slamming the door hard enough to rock the car and the lonesome woman who sat in it. _

* * *

 

  Laying on her bunk in the empty dorm room, Clementine’s eyes burned into the magazine her fingers gripped a little too tightly.   
  
     _‘From Lonely Orphan to Worldwide Superstar!’_ the title read.  _‘See which celebrity tells all in this month’s issue!’_  
  
    As the memory quit recounting in her mind, her dulled eyes unhooked from the taunting word. Orphan. Such an odd appearing word, so bitter to sound out. It never held positive connotations – why would it? It wasn’t made to describe anything positive, in fact, it was used against her as if it were some all-being word to end any sort of self-appointed identity individuality in her. It was her label –  _a shitty one at that.  
  
    _“Garbage,” she grumbled to herself, yet lacked the self-control not to flip over the page. Hell, if there was anything Clementine could use to distract herself from the thought of today’s assembly, perhaps a corny teen-magazine that was mind-control in the form of flashy neon colours and a free melted plastic-scented lip gloss, then hey, why not? Especially since she didn’t pay a dime for it in the first place. The library lady, Dee, tossed it in front of her with nothing short of a bare description as to why she was even offering it in the first place.   
_  
“Here girl, you want this? I got it for my daughter but she’s not havin’ at it.”  
  
    “Uh,” Clementine glanced around the library. “Why me…?”  
  
    “Don’t act all shocked. You’re the only one in here. Don’t you got any friends?” she tossed the magazine on the keyboard, forcing a bunch of keys down under its weight. Clementine deadpanned at the continuous ‘njgygggggggggggg’ that started to appear on the screen._  
  
    As the girl’s mind snapped away from the sudden, incidental recall of the memory, the door almost seemed as if it were kicked opened simply by the loud bang it produced. It swung all the way around until it bounced off the doorstop, emerging a red faced, tear-stricken Violet. Clementine lowered the magazine enough for her eyes to cautiously peer over the booklet, watching as the blonde girl forcefully turned around and slammed the door shut. She faced it, shoulders rising and falling as her breaths were loud and deep enough to be heard from the other end of the room.   
  
    “Um—Violet?” Clementine choked out, unsure of what to do. “Are you okay?”   
  
    At first, she was met with silence. Well, not entirely. Violet was still panting like she was about to punch the daylights out of someone. Soon enough, her fists began to tighten.   
  
     _Shit, maybe she_ is _going to punch the hell out of me.  
  
    _“I-It’s Minnie, she’s...” was all she let out, intensity bright in her voice as she sounded so far on the edge of shouting. Violet then growled with anger, reeling her foot back and pounding the door with it just once. One of Brody’s coats fell off the door hooks.   
  
    Clementine cautiously stood from her bunk, tossing the magazine onto the green, itchy blanket.   
  
    “What did she do?” she asked, forcing her tone to be gentle as she slowly approached her.   
  
    “She didn’t do anything, she’s… she’s…” Just as instantaneously as her anger entered the room, sorrow began to triumph over it. Her intensity soon eased into whimpering sobs, something Clementine didn’t think she’d see from a girl as immoveable as Violet… or, well, so she thought. Clementine stood there, brows quickly furrowing at the sight. Sure, it was sad to see someone like Violet cry, but what boggled her more was how bizarre it was. Because it was. Violet crying was definitely bizarre. She was unsure of what to do, what to say, despite how much she wanted to help. “She’s leaving… her and Sophie are going back to Seattle next week…” she let out as she turned around, head still lowered. It wasn’t hard to make out the pain in her visage through the strands of her bangs.  
  
    Clementine stood awkwardly.  
  
    “Do… you need a hug?” she offered in the nicest tone she could muster.  
  
    “No—” Violet sniffed, wiping her tears with her sleeve before raising her pained gaze at her. “A… A fucking hug?” she questioned it like it were absurdity, rendering Clementine’s silent shrug. As another sob engulfed the girl, she couldn’t help but slide her back against the door, planting herself on Brody’s fallen coat. “I… I said we were going to road trip after graduation…” she started up again, prompting Clementine to kneel in front of her. “We were going to use my inheritance money…” she sniffed again, but her sombre visage soon soured at herself. “God, why am I telling you this? You don’t care.”  
  
    Clementine’s brows furrowed.  
  
    “I might not know the gravity of it all… but you’re sad, Violet,” she noted. “You have every reason to be. I’m not going to make you shut up about it.”  
  
    The teary girl huffed.  
  
    “You’d be the first.”  
  
    “It’s… ok to let things out,” she spoke in hopes of assuring the girl, but it was almost as if she were letting herself know that too.   
  
    Violet paused for a moment, her lip trembling as her eyes flicked to the right. Up close, even through the redness of her tear-stung eyes, the hue of her iris still managed to shine it’s turquoise nature.  
  
    “She never told me she was only here for a year,” she started. “I told her all the things we could do together once we were finally free from this shit-hole. Every time she would just give me this… goddamn look, like she was worried – like I was dreaming too big or whatever. I never said anything about it. I just kept talking and talking and god, I’m such a fucking idiot,” Violet shook her head bitterly.   
  
    “She should have told you,” Clementine spoke adamantly.   
  
    “No,” Violet sighed. “No, it was me. I should have known—”   
  
    “It would’ve been impossible to know. You can’t blame yourself for this.”  
  
    “They shoplifted a couple of eyeliner pencils. That’s it. That’s the reason they’re here,” Violet’s natural firmness returned to her voice. “No anger issues, no shitty behaviour – they’re totally normal people. Their parents are just paranoid freaks,” she told her, another shake of her head soon appearing. “I should have known they weren’t going to be around for long.” But Clementine disagreed.  
  
    “Not all of us see the red flags, maybe sometimes we don’t want to believe them. But it doesn’t matter how hard it was to say, she should’ve told you sooner. We can’t just… hold onto the hard things. We should tell people what they have to hear… even when it’s really, really hard, or gets you in trouble or…  _whatever_ ,” Clementine’s face contorted once again – was she convincing Violet of this, or herself? “Look, I think the best thing you can do right now is spend all the time you can with her before she leaves. She probably feels as bad as you do. She has to leave her girlfriend behind,” she advised her, nesting her arm on her knee.   
  
    “You’re right,” Violet nodded, her eyes widening as if the soundest realization had suddenly occurred to her. The girl shot up from the ground, causing Clementine to slightly jump before she stood up as well. “I… I need to see her,” she insisted, launching for the door handle.   
  
    Before she opened it, she peered back at Clementine, eyes wide and urgent, however her words failed to form. She was returned with a plain yet encouraging smile from the brunette; one that got her to finally open the door. On the other side stood an anticipating Marlon, fist raised as he was about to knock, which Violet rushed past without a single acknowledgement. His eyes followed the girl as she bolted down the corridor, his hand then pointing in her direction.   
  
    “What’s, uh… what’s up with that?” His eyes flicked back to Clementine, his hand lowering.   
  
    “Minerva’s leaving next week,” she informed him, her arms folding.  
  
    “Shit, yeah… I heard about that,” he muttered, glancing in Violet’s direction again. His words caused her to deadpan.   
  
     _Out of all people to tell, why the hell did Minerva pick her girlfriend last?  
_  
   “She didn’t tell Violet she was only here for a year,” she continued, a bitter tinge to her words.  
  
    “She didn’t?” Marlon’s visage fluttered into shock. “Christ, that’s rough…” he muttered as he casually waltzed inside the room, shaking his head. When his eyes finally met hers again, his expression lightened. “I, uh… came by to see how your first week went. With your classes and stuff,” he then told her. “Sort of protocol, you know, being the Head and all.”  
  
    “Humble brag,” she curtly muttered, weaselling on a sly grin.  
  
    “Huh?”  
  
    “Classes are fine,” she abruptly changed the subject, ridding her face of the sneaky smile. “They’re, um… educational,” she shrugged, and then shrugged again from the inherent awkwardness itching away at her body.   
  
    “Great, great. Like they should be,” he nodded his hands raising to his hips. “And – totally confidential by the way – how was your counselling session? You like your counsellor?”  
  
    “Yeah, Kate is… Kate. She’s okay,” her shoulders jolted up once again. “She’s nice.”  
  
    “Well, that’s good to hear,” he let out an insignificant sigh of relief. “We’ve got plenty of counsellors at the school if you’re ever in desperate need to talk to someone. Or if you’re thinkin’ of changing counsellors. There’s quite a few at your disposal.”  
  
    “Good to know,” she replied.  
  
    “Indeed it is,” he echoed, teetering back and forth on his feet as he patiently nodded his head.   
  
    Marlon then let out an odd chuffing sound, thickening the essence of awkwardness between the pair’s conversation. It seemed as if there was more to come from him, but the bite of his tongue ensued as he debated with himself to actually speak up. Clementine’s stiffened gaze flickered to the side, her arms retreating into their usual crossed form.   
  
    “So… last night,” Marlon finally spoke, his eyes returning to her. “It, uh, looked pretty intense between you and Lou there for a moment,” he commented.  
  
    It wasn’t a shock to see Marlon bring Louis up to her, but it sure was a nuisance. He was Louis’ best friend, without a casual dose of nosey-ness, could he even retain that title? But nonetheless, Clementine still didn’t want to talk about it – not now, not ever. Her vivid abhorrence of Louis had definitely subsided into a mere toleration, even as the minute possibility of a strange bet going on between him and Marlon was ripe in her mind. That didn’t mean she was peachy keen with talking about all things Louis. She was hot and cold when it came to him, on and off, fire and ice, all the jazzy idioms her subconscious pinged to her forefront. If she was so disorganized with her emotions towards such a chirpy, yet wily addition in her life, then she sure as hell didn’t want to speak about something she was so muddled about.   
  
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she simply responded.   
  
    Feats of hostility and over-defensiveness couldn’t help but remind Marlon of his first interaction with her. It lead Marlon to chuff out a laugh at her pointed glare, however his expression dropped at the realisation of her seriousness.   
  
    “What? Sure you do—”  
  
    “No. I don’t,” her tone bit at him. “Is there any other boring question you wanna ask me or can I go back to reading?” she spoke abruptly, her eyes narrowing at his defeated stare.  
  
    Marlon huffed, taking a moment to truly assess her animosity before raising his hands in faux-defence.   
  
    “Alright. You don’t want to talk about it, I get it,” he replied nonchalantly.   
  
    “There’s nothing  _to_  talk about,” she assured him, moments before her gaze dragged over to the doorway behind him. In came the familiar, petite redhead lugging in her suitcase. Silence ensued from Clementine, hoping it would from Marlon too.   
  
    Brody soon glanced up at the boy as she realised his presence and lowered her luggage. She grew unsure, blinking at him.   
  
    “If I had known there was a party in here, I would’ve come a little earlier,” Brody chirped, smiling through her puzzlement.   
  
    Marlon’s head spun towards her at the sound of her voice, a sudden flutter of excitement hitting his features.   
  
    “You’re back!” he pulled her into a impromptu bear hug, much to her utter perplexity. “God, I’ve been waitin’ to see you.”  
  
    “Oh… really?” Brody awkwardly hugged him back, shooting a glance at Clementine. “I was only gone for the night. You know that…” she replied, pulling away.  
  
    “I know, I know. Just couldn’t wait to see your face again,” he insisted as he held her. “We got to go to the safe haven last night, got a little drunk, played a bit of cards. Started missing you…” Marlon began to gently sway his girlfriend from side to side, triggering her uncertain expression to ease into a smile, along with the gag reflex in Clementine’s throat.  
  
    Brody quickly separated herself from the boy and shifted her focus on the girl, a sheepish and embarrassed smile painting her rosy face.   
  
    “H- How was  _your_  night, Clem? You go to the safe haven too?” she politely asked, edging a little closer to her. She nodded.  
  
    “Your boyfriend is quite the fisherman when he’s drunk,” she began to grin. “Ask Violet.”  
  
    Brody’s pleasantly expectant glance peered up at him.   
  
    “Oh, you know. We were just screwin’ around in the lake last night is all. Might’ve grabbed a fish or two to bug Violet with. It’s no biggie,” he huffed out a small chuckle.  
  
    “Well, it sounds like you guys had fun,” she gleamed at the both of them. “Maybe not so much Violet…”  
  
    “Come with us next week,” he insisted, hanging his arm from her shoulders.   
  
    “Yeah! Uh… maybe,” she blinked at the ground, causing Marlon’s lightened visage to suddenly and quite eerily drop.  
  
    “Huh? What do you mean maybe?” he questioned.  
  
    Brody offered an innocent shrug.   
  
    “Oh, you know, I- I don’t wanna intrude on your guys’ fun and whatnot – I- I’d just be borin’ you all,” she insisted.  
  
    “What are you talking about? What the hell does that even mean?” he retrieved his arm from her shoulders and turned to her.   
_  
Okay…_  Clementine thought to herself.  _Why is this happening?_  
  
    Brody began to fidget with her hands, seeming as if she had no clue where to put them. Her furrowing brows caressed what was clearly evident to be worried eyes as she tried choking out a bunch of words that wouldn’t make sense.  
  
    “I just— Maybe, okay? I- I said maybe I’ll go. Y- You know I don’t mean nothin’ by it—”  
  
    “I just don’t see why you won’t come. I invited you. You’re coming.” The boy’s voice reeked of prepotency – a nasty, gut clenching impression was left on Clementine as she watched the girl stammer in search of words to calm him.   
  
    “Marlon, you know I… I’m not…” Brody’s eyes couldn’t return her boyfriend’s gaze, instead dropping to the ground or flickering at a stone-still, wide eyed Clementine.   
  
    “Stop being so goddamn coy, alright?” he near shouted, before turning his attention to their bystander. “You want her there too, right Clem?”  
  
    Unable to answer, the girl herself could feel the beginnings of befuddlement – starting from the lump in her throat, the razor-sharp clarity of everything in sight, the unruly pattern of her breathing… was befuddlement the right word? Or was she having an anxiety attack, right next to the girl  _also_  having one?  
  
     _Get out. Now. Go._  
  
    The couple had halted their arguing to watch Clementine stare daggers into the drawer beside them, the rims of her eyes glowing red as her breathing followed no distinct course.   
  
    “Clem…?” Marlon uttered her name again.  
  
    Her eyes suddenly darted at him, before her entire body darted out the door. She roamed the corridors in a hurry, zipping past fellow students within an inch of their limbs. There was something about a situation as domineering and fearful as the one she exited that riled up a sense of dread in Clementine. Memories triggered, hearts raced, breathing quickened. All she could scream to herself was:  _avoid, avoid, avoid_. What made Brody so anxious? How could it be so contagious? Why was Marlon so quick to overwhelm her?  
  
    Out of the dormitory building, she began weaving past students in the halls of the classroom building. But her mind was still set on figuring out what in the world had happened.  
  
     _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—  
_  
   It was like he had a switch in his brain. He could go from ‘totally normal’ to ‘arrogant brat’ at the sight of Brody. It was suffocation all over again, however in the form of proxy. The fear he instilled in Brody, seemed to instil in her as well. The sight of his overbearing nature alone was enough to choke her up. And soon enough, it was enough to aggravate her. Who the hell did he think he was talking to her like that? It wasn’t like she cared deeply about a dormmate she had only known for a few days, his behaviour was just foul enough to scare her into infuriation.   
  
     _Head of Sophomore, what a fucking jo—  
  
    _Despite watching the action unfold, Clementine hadn’t noticed an incoming student until they collided with her shoulder, spinning her around and yanking her right out of her daze.   
  
    “Watch where the hell you’re going, shit-for-brains,” the girl spat, glaring her brown, beady eyes into Clementine’s absent gaze. Her visage oozed animosity, or what seemed to be a blind hatred, the type that if you reasoned with them, you’d simply get ignored and shouted at. To them, being louder meant being the winner.  
  
    Or at least that’s what she conjured up in the few seconds of looking at her.  
  It only took a short moment to realise what had happened, and more importantly, what she’d been called, pulling the usually scornful Clementine out from the trenches of discombobulation. Her eyes narrowed.  
  
    “Fuck you.”  
  
    The girl bore her intensity into her even more, scoffing at her.  
  
    “You’re really speaking to me like that?” she began to steadily approach. “You know, you better watch your mouth—"  
  
    Clementine couldn’t pinpoint when she was going to do it, or how fast she was going to do it, but when a scream of agony ensued and the sight of blood poured from the girl’s nose… she realised she may have already done it. Something about old habits dying hard? A sharp, hasty fist had met the approaching girl quicker than Clementine could comprehend it. The girl tumbled to the ground, holding her bloody nose as she let out a string of expletives.   
  
    Her scowled features soon eased up when she realised what she had done.  
  
    “Oh, shit,” Clementine muttered, staring between her reddening knuckles and the injured girl.   
  
    As if she were pulled back into reality, the stares and hollers of passing by students caught her attention.   
_  
I hit her out of nowhere… why the fuck did I do that?_  
  
    With the commotion loud enough to draw the attention of Ms Caul down the hall, Clementine figured it was time to get the hell out of there.   
  
    “You’re fucking dead!” the girl threatened from the ground, catching Clementine’s wide eyes as she struggled to get up. As if Ms Caul wasn’t enough of an incentive to leave.  
  
     _Run.  
  
    _Backing away, she spun around to flee the scene of the crime, but then again collided, quite inelegantly, into yet another person, knocking the both of them back a few steps.   
  
    Her eyes narrowed.  
  
    Again. _  
  
    _“God, are you fucking everywhere?!” Clementine sputtered through the irony, glaring at a bewildered Louis as he assessed the situation before him.  
  
    “You straight up punched Becca in the face…” he spoke with awe, peering at the struggling girl behind her.   
  
    “Who? Wh—” Clementine promptly rolled her eyes, shaking her head impatiently. “I- I need to get out of here!”   
  
    When Ms Caul’s piercingly strident voice called for her to stay where she was, Louis took her by the wrist.  
  
    “Then we’re getting out of here.”


	8. enjoy the show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Louis whisks Clementine away from the consequences of her terrible decisions, he takes her to a world she has yet to experience. The world of the school’s music room. Aasim is yet to realise he needs to make more than his average attempts with Ruby. The Headmaster isn’t at school to deal with Becca, but Ms Caul sure is.

**FIVE MINUTES PRIOR**

   “No— I already told you, that leaking pen was merely a blip in my academic studies that took me no less than seventeen hours to get over. You’re not the prank master, you’re not a cunning assassin of deceit, you’re an _idiot_ ,” Aasim crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his back against the shoddy lockers of the math wing.

   Louis, unphased by his dearest friend’s deliberately cruel words, stuck his nose up at the comment.

   “ _Prank. Master,_ ” was all he responded with, jutting his two thumbs up at himself.

   “ _Mor-on_ ,” Aasim retorted, leaning forward at the boy.

   The cacophonous collision of a fist and a locker halted all chatter from the boys. After they reactively jolted from the unexpected bang, expressions wiped and lips pursed in a moment of anticipation, watching, waiting, as Ericson’s poster-boy for meatheads stomped by. Russell, fists undeniably clenched, bore a molten glare at the two as he passed them. A true ‘troubled youth’, if you asked Louis. The type of boy this very school was established for.

   Stoic-eyed, Aasim leaned back against the locker again, his head slowly turning to watch the boy go by.

   “Nutcase,” he muttered, a disapproving shake of his head following it up.

   “Was that supposed to scare _us?_ ” Louis questioned, his top lip curling. “Why us?”

   “Not us…” he replied, jutting his chin in the direction Russell had come from.

   Louis turned to see Gabe shrivelled up under his beanie, his wary eyes darting around for the threat that had stalked up before he could even unravel himself. If he didn’t know any better, Louis would have sworn Russell splattered him against the lockers just by how much he retreated against it. _Poor kid._

   “Hey, Garcia,” Louis called to him, brows furrowing. “You okay—?”

   “Fuck off!” he hastily sputtered, teeth gritted as he charged past them.

   Louis deadpanned.

   With another shake of his head, Aasim this time let out a sigh.

   “You should know by now not to expect decency from these people,” he commented, jiggling his leg in anticipation. “No one here knows how to reform.”

   Louis’ features soured.

   “You tried to light Ericson’s office on fire just last year,” he proclaimed, folding his arms. “Your fourth attempt, may I add.”

   Aasim huffed.

   “Fine. I had a relapse. Another blip. But at least I don’t try to beat people up like eighty-percent of the halfwits here,” he compromised, keeping his gaze distant.

   “Well, sure,” Louis shrugged. “But I wouldn’t exactly call arson a good alternative.”

   When Louis noticed Aasim earnestly straighten up, he knew he was pretty much blatantly ignored. He could tell Aasim caught wind of an incoming Ruby from the second she turned the corner. For a moment, his friend looked utterly void of all the confidence he previously wore. Instead, he watched as Aasim was reduced to a worrisome little boy, trying his hardest not to make even the tiniest, little, embarrassing mistake in front of a girl infinitely cooler than he was.   

   “Go. Now,” Aasim demanded of Louis, pushing himself off the lockers as he eyed an approaching Ruby.

   “Hm?” Louis turned, pretending to be oblivious to what his friend had made painfully obvious. “Oh, I see. You wanna put the moves on our dearest Ruby, huh?” his lips widened into a grin.

   Expectant of Louis’ irritating dawdling, Aasim averted his attention back to his imbecile of a friend, his white-hot glare piercing into him as he came so incredibly close to Louis’ face.

   “Leave, numbskull,” he spoke slowly, teeth gritted and unphased by the proximity between them. “Before I light your bunk on fire tonight.”

   Louis rolled his eyes.

   “Ugh, fine,” he conceded, unfolding his arms. “But don’t be fooled, loverboy. I’m hitting Ruby up on all the juicy gossip tomorrow!”

   With his awaiting dorm room in mind, Louis promptly left Aasim alone to encounter Ruby and make absolutely no moves on her whatsoever. It couldn’t be anymore tragically hilarious; Aasim had drooled over Ruby ever since freshman year, yet couldn’t bring himself to ask her on a date, or give her flowers, or serenade her – basically try _any_ romantic gesture at all.

   In the few short moments he was close enough to hear the beginnings of their conversation, Louis’ shoulders hiked up in an almost unbearable cringing motion.

   “Ruby. Hey… what’s—”

   “Oh, Aasim! I can’t get to chit-chattin’ right now, Marcia needs me in the music room—”

   It was almost _frustrating_ to see. Aasim couldn’t unstick himself from acting as her maid, barely even touching the notion of becoming a romantic interest. He was always scrambling to carry her books, or do her writing assignments for her, and sometimes he even had a tissue on hand for when she sneezed.

   Louis found that part kind of weird.

   But he cared for her, which was the one and only reason Aasim even carried a packet of tissues to begin with. For her. It wasn’t like Louis was a stranger to the concept of caring, it was the one thing that motivated people to make an impact on the world. When people cared, they put more effort into what they cared _about_. He knew that, maybe even more so if he cared about them a little too much… even after only four days of knowing them. Yeah, he _definitely_ knew that.

_Shit._

   Louis sighed through his nose as he trudged the halls.

    _What a colossal fuck up._

   He knew from the moment he told Clementine, right there in the cafeteria, that “I like a challenge” would come back to bite him in the ass sooner or later. It wasn’t even supposed to be said – only because of a previous conversation with Marlon did it stay fresh in his mind. Perhaps a little too fresh, because out it came like a family secret at a kid’s birthday when all the adults got drunk.

   _“Feisty at first, I’ll tell ya that,” Marlon relayed the encounter to him, planting himself on his bunk. “You’ll like her.”_

_“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis furrowed his brows, watching Marlon shrug modestly._

_“Ah, come on. You know what I mean.”_

_Louis paused for a moment, his features contorting as he delved into thought._

_“Is this because of what I said last week?”_

_“When?” Marlon stared at him._

_“At the safe haven, when it was just us.”_

_“Oh, right, yeah,” he nodded obviously. “The challenge thing?” he reconfirmed, earning a nod from Louis. “Well, unless you meant you’re the creeper type—”_

_“No— that’s absolutely not what I meant. Nor will I ever mean,” he adamantly denied._

_Marlon exhaled through his nose, standing up from the bed as he slowly nodded his head._

_“Look, I know what you meant, pal,” he assured him, his goofy tone sobering. “Which is why… you’re gonna like this one.” Louis raised his brows. “Cute, bit of a wisecrack, sorta unpredictable, but I can’t seem to really… get her,” he continued. “But I bet you can,” his grin widened. “She’s a challenge. And you like a challenge.”_

   Louis shook his head at the memory, accidentally staring down a student as they passed by. He promptly threw on a smile, hoping his immovable gaze wasn’t conveyed as a threat, and quickened his pace down the hall to avoid any conflict. He definitely didn’t need an encounter with one of the local meatheads.

   As he curved around the corner, entering the main hallway, Louis almost choked on his tongue when the back of Clementine came into view. Jesus, what was this? Clairvoyance? One moment he’s thinking about her, and the next she appears like a –

   “You’re really gonna speak to me like that?” Becca barked, closing in on the girl. Louis’ brows twitched with uncertainty, barely noticing the small gathering around them.

   Without a word, a then fidgeting Clementine also stepped up to Becca’s now pointed finger.

   “You know, you better watch your mou– _Augh!_ ”

   “Jesus!” Louis instinctively jumped back at the movement and thud of Clementine’s fist striking a now discombobulated Becca. His eyes broadened in shock as she tumbled to the ground, blood beginning to pour from her nostril as she covered it in distress.

   “What the fuck?! What the _fuck!?_ ” Becca spewed with ferocity, glaring up at the girl.

   It wasn’t long before her string of expletives reeled a stand-still Clementine back into the now thunderous and chaotic reality; it was as if her soul had seeped back into her body with a jolt and her fist raised to examine what she had done. Louis swore he heard her mumble something through Becca’s incessant threats, and she began to back away.

   Did her system reboot after a self-destruction? Did she black out in an unexpected fit of rage? Sure, Becca could truly press some buttons, she wasn’t a stranger to getting on the nerves of people, but what could’ve warranted _that?_ Was Clementine just… violent like that?

   In need of an answer to the rampant questions in his head, Louis pounced forward to turn the girl around, but just as he did, she spun in his direction to evade a struggling yet determined Becca. The collision soured her features as they stunned his.

   “God, are you fucking everywhere?!” she growled at him, her hands erratically by her side. Gobsmacked, he couldn’t find the urge to blink.

   “You… straight up punched Becca in the face…” sounding rather mesmerised than his intended bewilderment, Clementine didn’t seem to care about who exactly she injured.

   “Who? Wh—” she shot a glance over her shoulder, both their gazes landing upon the approaching Ms Caul. An impatient eyeroll followed. “I- I need to get out of here!”

   “You! Stay where you are right now!” Ms Caul demanded, the clack of her quick-paced heels resonating louder and louder through the turbulence of hyped students. “I’m warning you!”

   Louis immediately latched his hand around Clementine’s wrist, giving her no time to resist as he pulled her along.

   “Then we’re getting out of here.”

   Seconds seemed like hours by the time they finally scattered into the courtyard, not too far from the commotion and bloody noses. Whilst tugged along, an overwhelmed Clementine ran through the notions of trying to explain herself. Or how he saw it – trying to explain _to_ herself.

   “I don’t know— I don’t know what the hell happened. I was just walking through the hall, then the next thing she’s… on the floor, just—” she suddenly halted her rambling, her contorted expression smoothing over. “…I sound like an idiot… God—”

   “What?” he questioned at the sudden shift of her tone. When she lacked further words, he pressed further. “What do you mean?” he asked, glancing back at her quickly over his shoulder. But again, she left him answerless to the muffles of talking students and closing doors amidst the dusk.

   Well, one thing was for certain: Marlon had her unpredictability down pat. Her shift in demeanour was bizarre, for the most part. She seemed completely fine yesterday, at least that’s what Violet relayed to him by the time they got back to their dorm. Louis couldn’t help but wonder that maybe, just maybe, his hand played a part in set her off. No, he couldn’t have – _she_ was a troubled youth, _she_ was here for a reason. There had to be something already wrong with her, right? But… maybe there had to be some provocation from his end. She hadn’t gotten in any trouble since she got here; if she was an ill-willed loose cannon before, it seemed like she was straying away from that path to get back on her feet. Perhaps he… screwed that up? Nah, that was _ridiculous_. Someone like her couldn’t be afflicted by someone like him. What was he to her? Some pesky annoyance like he was to everyone else? Some not-so-comedic relief to roll her eyes at and forget ever happened? Someone to _not_ take seriously? In the back of his mind, he hoped he was making strides with her, like seeing those little moments of vulnerability where she’d laugh with him – or maybe _at_ him – and prayed she didn’t feel as miserable as she seemed. But who was a guy like Louis to a girl like Clementine? Louis was no one to her, he had to be just another face in yet another school. He wasn’t special. Hell, he was lucky to even be holding her hand right now. Her sore, bleeding hand.

“You’re bleeding,” he told her, slowing to a stop by the flagpole.

   “Huh?” she mumbled in her daze.

   “Your hand. It’s bleeding,” he reiterated to her as he presented her own hand to her gaze. She observed it – the middle knuckle of her middle finger was split, dripping blood down the rest of her fingers. “I won’t lie to you, Clem. There’s a good chance you’re going to get in some real trouble. Ericson might not see a lot of the crap that goes on, but when Ms Caul does, she really goes after you. If you told me even Hitler was scared of her, I would definitely believe it. But there’s a chance you can get out of this. We’ll get you out of sight. So… just… maybe don’t worry so much, alright?”

   Her features were stoic.

   “You don’t have to help me,” she lowly insisted.

   “But I am…” Louis quickly replied. “I want to,” he mumbled.

   “Why?” her voice hardened.

   “Why not?” he retorted, equally as brazen.

   The right side of her face twitched from the hint of confusion, she was almost grateful, as shocking as that was for her to believe. Helping her was, in fact, an _odd_ commodity… but something she knew she had to accept. There’d been enough self-destructing for one day. 

   “I can take you back to our dorm,” Louis began to tug her. “Marlon can—”

   “No,” she suddenly resisted, shaking her head. “Not your dorm.”

   “Marlon’ll get you off the hook—”

   “I said no!” she yanked her hand back from him. When an amalgamation of shock, confusion, and regret tainted his usually bright features, she sighed the rigidity from her body. _Don’t yell, just explain,_ she thought to herself. “I’ll go anywhere else. Any idea you’ve got,” her voice had softened, softened to a level he didn’t think she was capable of. “Just not him.”

   Like a punch to the gut, it wasn’t hard to tell Marlon had a lapse in composure again – scared her, freaked her out, said something he shouldn’t have… in typical Marlon fashion. He’d seen it before, countless times. Brody being his usual victim.

   “Shit,” he mumbled almost helplessly, his voice barely audible. She may have not even heard. With his hands on his hips, he glanced back at the administration building, letting out a curt sigh. “Come on,” he jutted his head.

   “In there…?” she blinked cautiously.

   With a simple smirk, Louis let Clementine know he wouldn’t allow her to go about this alone. Albeit he didn’t create it, he sure did walk right into and take part in this mess. He was willing to make it his own for her.

   Another gesture of his head was all it took for her to mindlessly follow behind him as they walked to the administration building. Once inside, the pair kept a stern eye out for the Headmaster or Ms Caul herself before taking a sharp turn into the corridor that led into the music room. Clementine didn’t need to be anywhere near its doors to know just how bustling it was in there. She wasn’t a fan of crowds, but this one was starting to seem like a great spot to lay low until the excitement died down.

   Reaching the doors, Louis rested his scarred palm on the handle and took a moment to glance back at the girl.

   “Once I open this door, there’s no going back,” he mysteriously told her, earning her narrowed stare. “Behind this mahogany loiters the most—”

   “Just open the door,” she tiresomely demanded, folding her arms.

   With a quick deadpan and a curt sigh, Louis pushed back the door to reveal bundles of scattered students huddling around poorly conditioned instruments; the chimes of guitar tuning, BPM testing, and idle jamming filled the room similarly to the creative energy that filled the young ruffians.

   “Hand me that pick—”

   “A one, two, three, four—”

   “You pull a stupid face when you blow—”

   “How fast was that? Huh? Did I beat it?”

   “You’re sounding much better! Awh, I can’t wait to see you perform this!”

   Mouth slightly agape, Clementine took nothing short of a few steps forward as she stepped into the vivacious room. Ericson’s sure had it’s musical side.

   “This room… it’s huge,” she observed as Louis nodded.

   “When the school only had under a hundred students, like _waaay_ back in the 1800s, this room and the one across the hall were the only two classrooms. There was only the courtyard, baseball field, and the admin building,” he informed her, stepping up behind her. “Obviously as time went on and parents started shipping their kin over here like Christmas greeting cards to distant relatives, the school expanded and these rooms served… _other_ purposes.”

   “And you just… play music in here? All the time?” she glanced up at him. He scoffed, raising his hands to his hips.

   “What else are we supposed to do? Better ourselves as people?” he amusingly rolled his eyes. “We— uh, we’re working on it,” he cleared his throat.

    As Clementine quirked her eyebrow, a rather chirpy redhead had made her reoccurrence in the music room. Surrounded by a few other windblown students who spoke between each other, mindlessly following their leader, she hopped over to Louis and his guest with a glorious smile.

   “Now take a look at you!” Ruby’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Just can’t seem to stay away from the fresh meat, can ya Lou?”

   “Well, I do take it upon myself to lead the young and misguided towards the light,” he quipped back, placing his hands on his hips with pride.

   Clementine blinked, then side eyed him as she felt prompted to speak.

   “Yes…” she mumbled, “the light…”

   As a scathing silence ensued between the pair and Ruby, the petite ginger took it upon herself to continue an easy conversation.

   “Well? Aren’t ya goin’ to introduce yer new friend?” she pestered Louis, his hands falling by his sides.

   “Right. Clementine, meet the nightmare of every southern belle, Miss Ruby Drummond.”

   “Witty,” Ruby deadpanned. 

   “And Ruby, this is… Clementine,” he sighed, brows furrowing just as a weary mother’s would. “Certified fresh meat.”

   “Well, I think I’ve seen ya around, but it’s nice to _finally—_ Oh my god, your hand! It’s bleedin’!” Ruby’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively reaching for Clementine’s. The inattentive crowd behind her had suddenly peaked at the shrill of Ruby’s shock, their wide, curious eyes glancing over her shoulder.

   “Uhhh…”

   “I thought you looked a lil’ shaken up! What the hell happen’ to you?!” she choked out, observing the hand cautiously.

   “She…” Louis stammered, desperately racking his brain for anything that sounded _remotely_ normal. “She cut herself on—”

   “I hit someone,” Clementine voice wobbled with uncertainty, her eyes flickering between her hand and Ruby’s furrowed expression. Louis half-heartedly threw his hands up.

   “Great. _That’ll_ keep you out of trouble,” he crossed his arms.

   “Yoo, holy shit—” a kid began to chuckle from behind Ruby.

   “You hit someone?! Who?! _Whooo!?”_ another excitedly bounced.

   Louis’ eyes narrowed the louder the excitement grew. “No, she didn’t hit anybo—”

   “It was Becca,” Clementine replied, earning Louis’ dramatic eyeroll.

   “Hah! No way!”

   “Nice!”

   “What I’d do to take a shot at her… oh, man.”

   “I know, right? Screw that bitch.”

   Clementine huffed out a doubtful laugh, slightly pulling at the grip Ruby had on her hand.

   “I… didn’t mean it,” she told them, her eyes edging up to Louis’. His brows raised softly. “It just sort of happened.”

   “Who cares? She’s just the worst.”

   “I bet she deserved it.”

   “Anyone who gives Becca a good socking is a-okay in my book.”

   Blinking, Clementine glanced up at Louis.

   “Band geeks… they’re violent,” she stiffly noted, rising on her toes to reach his height.

   “You should see ‘em during food fights,” he huffed.

   After a few more moments of eagerly examining Clementine’s busted hand, Ruby let it go with a sharp “hmph” and a pointed finger.

   “Stay here, sugar. I’ll grab a couple things to patch this up from the first aid office,” she informed her, beginning to walk away before halting. “Oh, hey, Lou—how’s yer hand holdin’ up?”

   He smirked, giving her a thumbs up with his injured hand.

   “A first degree burn never hurt nobody,” he replied, grinning almost from ear to ear. Ruby’s expression collapsed.

   “That’s… exactly what they do,” she rigidly replied, glancing oddly at him. Searching for the wise words of wit that usually bounced about in his head, Louis let out an unsure laugh, his expression blanking when nothing intelligible seemed to leave his mouth. He scratched the back of his head a moment before Ruby began to awkwardly edge away.

   Clementine huffed.

   “Genius.”

   After a short, self-doubting glare she received from Louis, he led her over to the suddenly unoccupied piano by the sun-kissed window. He planted himself down on the seat, his hands placed on the keys as if he were about to play some marvellous improvisation through channelling Bach himself. She somewhat snorted at the sight. When he noticed she hadn’t sat beside him, his innocent eyes peered up at her, his head gesturing to the space beside him for her to join him. The lump in her throat pulsed the reoccurring thought of _too intimate, too intimate, too intimate_. But all she had to do in this chaotic room was blend in, not stick out. You know, like see the ball, be the ball.

   See Louis, be Louis.

   Breathing in heavily through her nose, she gracelessly positioned herself on the seat next to him; an action he didn’t seem so phased by. Not so pompously as he looked before, Louis placed his hands on the keys once again and let his fingers push mindlessly on the ivories. She followed his movement with her eyes, a brow quirking at how seamlessly he was stringing notes together. She hadn’t focused on his playing the day she first interacted with him, the notions of smothering her pride and homesickness had taken up most of her attention when that went down. To her, his playing had solidified a third language Louis seemed to speak.

   The first being the obvious: his words. No, not like how everyone else used them. He spoke as if he were describing a scene all the time, using such emphasis and detail on the minute factors of conversation. He let everyone see the way he saw the world around him. He painted, in her head, the absurd visions he saw in his own.

   His second language was physical expression. The way he carried himself, used his hands to speak, morphed endearing facial expressions to accompany his words – it was as if he patented his own way of movement. Tugging on his jacket lapels, slagging his arm around a friend’s shoulder, leaning in to talk to her as if he were well and truly apart of the interaction. A lifeless Louis wouldn’t be Louis.

   And last but not least, his music. What was he even playing right now? Nothing she could recognise. Maybe some old classical, maybe some improvisation. Who knew? All she knew was how shocking it was, how focused _he_ was. She watched him fully immerse himself into a shoddy, banged up piano that sounded just a tad out of tune. It was him. It was the musical interpretation of the boy himself.

   “Know how to play anything?” he chimed out of nowhere, allowing his hands to lazily play a rather sombre composition than the one before. Yanked out of her rumination, she shrugged.

   “I don’t.”

   “Music not your thing?” he further questioned, a tinge of disappointment in his tone.

   “Music is everyone’s thing,” she replied through an obvious chuckle. “Just can’t play anything on piano.”

   Louis huffed.

   “Well, maybe if you’re lucky, the best piano player in the world _just_ might give you a lesson once your hand is all better,” he grinned at her, glancing to and from the piano. Clementine’s eyes playfully narrowed.

   “Will he now?” she pressed, her eyes staring fervently up at him. The calling of his bluff almost knocked the wind out of him.

   “I know him personally,” he replied, partnering his smirk with a wink. What didn’t follow his confident suit, however, were the notes he played. Being so caught up in Clementine seemed to render him disabled in the piano-playing department for that short-lived moment.

   “Well, Louis, that’s great and all…” she repositioned herself on the seat, “but you should take those lessons for yourself. Sounds like you need it,” she finally allowed a crack of a grin to reveal itself to him. Relieving his hands of the piano, he returned her grin with a smile of suspicion.

   “Alright, you caught me slipping,” he shrugged. “Playing the piano _and_ talking to a girl who recently pummelled a kid is a hard feat to achieve,” he jokingly admitted, prompting her to roll her eyes. “But I bet I could master it.”

   “That’s _your_ hill to die on.”

   “Now who said anything about dying on it?” he questioned, retracting his head back.

   “Yeah, you’re right,” her grin widened. “Talking a lot is kinda what you do best, huh?” she teased, an echo in the back of her mind hoping he didn’t take what was partly jest to be entirely hostile.

   “I can’t imagine any other way to get a word out of you,” he sprung back with an innocent shrug. “Unless you know of any you’d like to share with the class?” he challenged, a sanguine smirk gracing his face.

   “Maybe that’s the trick to this whole thing, maybe you’re not supposed to get a word out of me,” her brows raised effortlessly. “Maybe things are supposed to be left how they were. How they are _alone_ ; by themselves.”

   Perched upon the double seater, he struggled to maintain a composed expression at the abruptness of her words. How quickly those words came to her could only puzzle him, yet led him to wonder how long she had been sitting on a thought like that for.

   “Well…” he mindlessly traced the length of the keys with his finger, “I can’t leave well enough alone,” he told her, his gaze finally making its way back to hers. “Never had, never could.”

   Clementine smirked.

   “That’s your hill to die on,” she repeated.

   As if the giant horse of liveliness had kicked him in the back, Louis perked himself up again, regaining his former pep.

   “Well dying on it ain’t part of the plan!” he chirped back, a courageous grin returning Clementine’s sceptical one.

   “Mhm…” she hummed, her eyes squinting with scrutiny. “And what is?”

   Before Louis could even realise the hole he dug himself into, Ruby slipped back into his vision with basic medical supplies in hand alongside her signature, rosy-cheeked smile. Taking a second to breathe, he allowed Ruby to consume the girl’s attention as she began playing doctor almost right away. It was a hell of a coincidence she returned when she did, for Louis knew he was bound to blurt out whatever slightly made sense when in actuality, would send Clementine _running._ How do you tell a girl you’ve only known for a few days that she’s the most interesting person you’ve ever set eyes on, even when you know barely anything about her? How _wouldn’t_ that freak her out? In what world wouldn’t that make her uncomfortable, or worse; make her _angry?_

   _Just keep playing_ , he thought as he returned his hands to the piano.

   “Trust me darlin’, you’ll wanna stop gettin’ in fights,” Ruby spoke up, ensuring her attempt to ease the scathing silence between her and her stone-still patient. Clementine huffed through the stinging sensation of the rubbing alcohol.

   “Believe it or not, my Ericson’s fight record was clean up until five minutes ago,” she replied, a tinge of humour to her tone.

   “Your _Ericson’s_ one…” Louis echoed; brows raised impressively. She returned his gaze with stern eyes.

   “Take it from me, yer gonna get a lot of _gnarly_ infections if you keep cuttin’ yer knuckles on some poor fellas’ teeth,” Ruby insisted, dabbing away the coagulated blood on the girl’s hand. “Consider yourself lucky Becca Wallace is a clean freak.” Louis deadpanned into confusion.

   “That’s an interestingly specific fact to know,” he commented, prompting Ruby to meet his stare.

   “She’s my dormmate,” she clarified. “Chances are she’ll clean her nose up before I could even get the tissues out.”

   Clementine quirked a brow of disbelief.

   “You’d do that for her?” she asked.

   “Sure I would. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ nice. _Especially_ if it means you won’t be gettin’ any infections,” she grinned, patting down the thick fabric of the rather high-end band-aids onto Clementine’s hand. “There. Yer all cleaned up,” she dusted her hands together.

   “Thanks,” Clementine nodded, closing and re-opening her fist to settle the band-aid in.

   “And keep yer nose clean too! Don’t go sniffin’ around for any trouble ‘round here,” Ruby warned, but her stern gaze was no match for her sweet smile. “Wouldn’t wanna be cleanin’ up a pretty face like that if you so happen to lose next time,” she assured her, hands planted on her hips.

   When Louis instinctively glanced back at Ruby, she returned his ever so agape grin with a wink. Upon her exit, Louis shied his glance away and back to the piano when Clementine peered up at him, red faced and biting the inside of her cheek. He tried to fill the emptiness between them the only way he could.

   “I think she was coming onto you,” he jabbed her with his elbow, a smirk tugging at his lips. Her brows raised, unimpressed.

   “She’s probably blind,” she mumbled, tapping mindlessly on one of the higher piano keys.

   “What? How could you s— _sss…_ ” Louis froze, elongating the sound of his aborted word in sheer panic. If he told her she was wrong for ever thinking she wasn’t attractive, she would _totally_ get creeped out. And if he agreed with her self-deprecation, she might even give him an uppercut. Louis knew his words skated on thin ice with someone that held an abundance of walls up. It wasn’t as cut and dry as, say, trying to chat up the cute cashier at the convenience store when students were allowed into town every fortnight. And it definitely wasn’t as easy as hiding away in a boarding school for two weeks after she rejected your flirtations and hope she isn’t working the next time you come in. For a person as challenging as Clementine, he wasn’t sure what his approach was. All he knew were the approaches it probably shouldn’t be.

   “ _Sss_ …? _Sss-_ what?” Clementine stared up at him, lips parted in anticipation. Louis cleared his throat.

   “Sss-say…” he choked up once again. As quick as he was with his witty jokes and quips, a face like that sure knew how to make him speechless.

   Her shoulders almost slumped, her brows furrowing in ever so slightly.

   “I get it,” she mumbled. “I’m not exactly the easiest person to talk to,” she followed, her index finger merely resting on a piano key.

   “Oh…” Louis’ confusion set in. “Wait, huh?”

   She sighed, her words at the tip of her tongue. _Spit it out._

“I’m… _sorry_ , for… going off the rails yesterday. It can happen sometimes,” she apologized, her eyes scanning over her hand. “Evidently,” she held it up.

   It was never the thought of being _too_ suspicious or _too_ angry at someone that was hard to come to terms with. It was that the act of apologizing, albeit necessary, just came so awkwardly to her. Call it an immature notion of self-pride or the fear of being disbelieved, she never really got the hang of stringing those words together as well as they should’ve been.

   On the other hand, he couldn’t figure out why _she_ was apologizing to _him?_ He found it absurd that she felt the need to admit a wrong-doing when he wasn’t so innocent himself. While subconscious, he felt _he_ was the one that led her to believe something fishy was going on behind the scenes between he and Marlon. Sure, it was _one_ slip up, and sure, it was inherently harmless. But he knew who he was talking to, he knew there had to be a reason for her strong and immediate mistrust of people. When it came to Clementine, all the tip toeing and the eggshell walking wasn’t in vain. There was no doubt that she was the type of person to sniff out red flags and act accordingly, even to the point where similar words being spoken was an odd sign. Her glorious moments of kindness and nurturement that he _knew_ there was more of was a product of respecting her. It was a product of treating her kindly when she first wanted nothing to do with him. A product of trying to make her feel comfortable among his friends because it’s clear that’s what she needed – some friends, a group she could be apart of.

   Being careful was worth it, because while he didn’t see himself to be the best person, he knew he could be better. Being better meant he had to be careful. And being careful meant that soon enough, he could be around the kind of Clementine that trusted him.

   “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I get it, Marlon and I…” he huffed shaking his head. “It sounded really suspicious from your position. Just… know I’m not trying to mess with you or fool you into anything. My friends, they’re cool people. They’ve helped me through some shitty things and I… I think I’ve helped them too. I want you to be around us because I know you’ll like it with them, and I can tell they like you too. You’re… super cool. Like, really cool. To be completely honest, I never know what you’re going to say next, so… it’s—um… fun talking to you,” he began to chuckle.

   After a long silence which included a held breath from Louis and a tiny, warm grin from Clementine, she finally peered back up at him.

   “Even with all the insults?” her smile widened, his shoulders easing with relief.

   “Pfft, _totally_. That’s the best part! Being completely dismantled by a girl who doesn’t even like to talk,” he shrugged, leaning his elbow on the end of the piano. “It’s really humbling, you know?” Clementine chuckled, but withheld her words. She appreciated his kindness, however she couldn’t figure out how to express it. “I, uh… I don’t think you’re like that all the time,” Louis continued, a rather serious tone now decorating his voice. “I think you can be really nice under all that… hostility.”

   Her brows raise inquisitively.

   “And what gives you that impression?”

   He shrugged.

   “Sometimes you just feel it.”

   As if the pair were in the middle of a high school talent show, the back corner of the room began to light up with the thunderous soundings of a performance. She recognised the almost exact guitar riff to be something from Weezer, but the specific song she couldn’t remember. Louis, as if he were a robot suddenly controlled, immediately turned to face the corner. A bunch of rag tag kids wielding their personal guitars jammed away, turning the heads of everyone else in the room. Clementine could only wonder, perhaps it was an unspoken tradition – when a group played, everyone gave their attention. They couldn’t care less if you were just strumming to yourself near the fireplace; when a bunch of troubled kids were about to smash out a song they had been rehearsing to relieve their inner tension, you listened.

   A scruffy, shaggy haired boy with thickly rimmed glasses approached the dodgy microphone, a cheap, sticker-littered and scratched up Fender in hand.

   “ _Debt, on my head, wasting time, on my own. Sleep, rescue me, take me back, to my home_.”

   Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. In what other school was she going to see random jam sessions of genuinely performed music? Well, aside from some pompous performing arts school that would set her back a couple thousand dollars.

   _Well… shit, this is… cool,_ Clementine thought to herself, her leg bumping along to the beat.

   _“…I’ll appear, slap you on the face and, enjoy the show.”_

   She turned back over to Louis.

   “Figured out a band name yet?” she questioned over the cacophonous music.

   “Why, you got one?” he leaned in to hear her. A smug grin plagued her face.

   “How about Not So Troubled Youth?” she joked, a curt snort of laughter escaping her soon after.

   “As appreciated as your solid efforts may be, I think I’m still gonna roll with my choice of Disciplinary School Band,” he replied, a smirk upon his lips as he received her eye-roll of disapproval.

   _“…Fag, of the year, who can beat, up your man. For, the times, that you wanna go and…”_

   “It can be your band too,” he continued, his expression solidifying into something more serious.

   “Me?” she whipped her head from the band back to him. “I don’t sing.”

   Louis’ brows rose with curiosity, his lips widening into another grin. Her stomach churned.

   “Now who said anything about singing?” he questioned her.

   Clementine’s expression iced over, her eyes shooting to the side as she came to realise her screw up of epic proportions. _Fuck._

“No one.”

   “You hidin’ some talents from me, Clementine?” he playfully tantalized her. “Are you withholding such greatness even the likes of the _Beatles_ cannot obtain?” his eyes bore into her with excitement.

   She sighed.

   “I can sing like your grandma,” she admitted through her deadpan. “Is that you wanna hear? Some corny, old, mid-century love songs?”

   With his mouth agape, Louis’ wide eyes blinked. _From that voice, God, yes!_

   “Uh, _yeah!_ ”

   “No, Louis. _No_ ,” she grimaced, turning to face the piano again. “It sounds _awful_.”

   “Wh— awful?!” he sputtered. “You’re talking about an industry defining era here! An era _you_ seem to like,” he nudged her with his elbow.

   “Alright, fine. The music? It’s great. But thanks to my grandparents, I’ve got Julie London and Kay Starr playing in my head the second I get a moment of silence. And I _like_ it,” she seemed disappointed with herself. “Who _likes_ the music their grandparents like?” she said, scrunching her features up in distaste. He froze in astonishment.

   “You, apparently. And you’re talking to the guy who was _just_ playing Chopin.”

   Her brows narrowed in.

   “Who?”

   “I— Don’t worry…” Louis’ eye twitched before he took a breath. “Having an interest in music beyond what’s on the radio means you’ve got taste. You, my friend, have a musical palette—”

   “A what—?”

   “Which is what fine-tunes and increases the creative structure of music’s greatest songs and bands! You think—”

   Before Louis could continue his _totally not biased_ marvelling at what an addition Clementine would be to his theorised band, the music halted and lowly cheers of praise ensued.

   “Not bad, guys!”

   “You managed to make a Weezer song _not_ suck. Good job.”

   Louis peered back over his shoulder, watching his friends embark in all the praise they were receiving. Being one of their supporters from the very first day they formed back in freshman year, he felt the need to congratulate them. He owed it to them, after all.

   “Think about it, Clem. I promise you, there’ll be nothing you regret,” he told her, standing from the chair. “You comin’?” he gestured his head toward the band, a sliver of his grin peeking at her.

   Neither discontent nor glee, Clementine innocently shook her head at his later proposal. She figured he didn’t need her by his side any longer than she had to be.

   The band proposal, however, was one she had to think about.

* * *

  “For the millionth time, none of those asshats hit me! I was walking past the lockers and one of them flew open. That’s it, that’s the headline! That’s the news at six! Local schoolgirl attacked by locker! There’s your goddamn answer.”

   Ms Caul sat unamused at the Headmaster’s desk, observing a swollen-nosed Becca hold a rag up to her face and give her testimony. A thick silence suggested the Headmaster wasn’t present to give his blabbering excuses for these recalcitrant vermin. Off on some escapade, it meant Ms Caul was left to assume authority over students as second in command. It felt all too natural to sit at the weighty mahogany desk, in the vintage, executive leather office chair, taking control of kids who dared step a toe out of line. It was all she knew, after all.

   Obedience. Order. Authority.

   These insolent children wouldn’t know a damn thing about it.

   “So, you’re telling me you were walking down the hall, minding your own, and a locker door just so happened to swing open and give you a nosebleed?” she reconfirmed, her brows raising unimpressively.

   “Are you gonna believe me when I say yes this time?” Becca bit back, a petulant snark to her tone.

   Ms Caul deadpanned.

   “Let’s ignore how incredibly ridiculous your poorly concocted story is and the fact that you’re quite _obviously_ lying to your Deputy Headmaster, and allow me to ask you this,” she recrossed her legs. “What was Miss Everett doing standing over you? Why was she there?”

   Becca slowly removed the rag from her bloodied nose and leaned forward in her seat, her eyes staring fervently into Ms Caul’s.

   “She – didn’t – touch me,” she spoke deliberately, her soured features stone-like in nature. “Take my word, my dorm room wouldn’t be the only cell I’d be in if she ever put her hands on me,” she venomously insisted before leaning back in her chair.

   Ms Caul was struck with amusement, enough to make her calmly stand from her chair and pace around the desk. Amongst the silence, Becca sat weary, unsure of why her words didn’t spark some sort of outrage in the woman.

   “Is that a threat on the life of another student, Miss Wallace?” she somewhat limpidly asked the young girl, patiently pacing behind her with her hands behind her back. “By the off chance it can’t go unsaid, Ericson’s Boarding School has a zero tolerance policy for violence between students and towards staff, which includes deliberate verbal threats. I know you aren’t scared, but you may ask yourself what sort of punishment could ensue? Well, if I had it my way, immediate expulsion wouldn’t even be considered. Being expelled is freedom for you pests. It’s like running for the hills without the armed enemies behind you. No, I wouldn’t expel you. Perhaps hours of gruelling manual labour or the insanity that comes with solitary confinement would be a suitable punishment. See, if it weren’t for the Headmaster, I would be fully committed to enforcing these consequences on those who threaten the lives of others.” Ms Caul planted a hand on Becca’s shoulder from behind, leaning over to get ever so close. “Because I don’t make empty threats like you do,” she lowly insisted, her eerie tone was like a cold settling on the girl’s skin.

   Becca couldn’t quite put her finger on what was so wrong about what she was saying, but she knew it certainly wasn’t passing any morality tests. Her usual ferocity was silenced with shock, her words stolen from her, rendering her completely and utterly speechless.

   “Get back to your dorm, Miss Wallace,” Ms Caul stood up straight, instilling the usual solidity of her tone. “I’m sure there’s some unfinished classwork you’d want to catch up on.”

   The girl took no time in shooting up from her seat and darting out of the office, paying no mind to shut the door behind her.

   _She’s fucking nuts._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so wow! hey! super sorry for the huge delay. life took some unexpected turns, kinda got slack on my hobbies, but i'm getting back on the horse and getting another chapter out to you wonderful people. i'm sorry it took MONTHS to get this chapter out, i had some writers block rearing its ugly head as well, but hopefully you can forgive me! i come with a gift so you basically have to ha. anywho, next chapter shouldn't take as long to get out as i'm going to instantly start drafting and writing it as soon as i post this on all the sites, get the tumblr updated and whatnot. i wanna thank you if you're actually reading this because it means you haven't given up on the story, which i sincerely love and appreciate. you have no idea how great your comments make me feel as i feel like i've finally written a story people enjoy (believe it or not, i've had my fair share of poorly written fics and storylines. but ya bared with me!). so here's to you, chapter 8. not much actually happens in this chapter, but there's some juicy clem x louis bonding going on as well as some characters we haven't quite seen enough of. i'm worried some of you may take a step back and be like "oh. they've known each other for 4 days. louis liking her this fast seems weird" and yeah boo i get that, don't worry! i always think that too. but in the immortal words of peachplease/zvkos (author of most beloved clouis fic: instant crush) lou boy falls fast and he falls hard. a complete and utter hopeless romantic. get ready. THANKS BYE


	9. in all its glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week and a half has passed and Clementine is starting to turn a new leaf, until something breaks her stride. Louis tries to assist Violet through her irrational and unprocessed outburst. Minerva’s final goodbye to Marlon leaves a bitterness in his mouth.  
> Warnings: Themes of Violence, (maybe) Gore (because blood? putting that in just in case), Mental Unstableness all around. Dr Ruby is on the case.

   **APRIL 17, 2003**

   Clementine perched her legs atop Kate’s decorative coffee table, staring up at the ceiling and tapping her fingers against the suede chair’s arm rests. She blew raspberries into the air incidentally as childish as AJ would behave, possibly when he was bored out of his mind during Audrey’s shopping trips. However, boredom wasn’t the emotion swarming Clementine in that moment, in fact, she was rather in the depths of recollection, attempting to gather an answer to Kate’s question.

   _How did you accept people’s kindness this week?_

   Clementine pursed her lips, her legs entertaining a jittery pattern as she continued to think. It truly perplexed her at the amount of kindness she’d been shown in just a week of being at a behaviour correctional school. Well, of course there was the expected bullshit that typically came along with bunking in a hotpot of kids riddled with ADHD and psychopathic tendencies. There was the typical death-glarer had she stared just a little too long, the fight instigators desperate for a beat down, the creeps stalking her around campus, the kleptomaniacs swiping stationary from her pencil case, the _downright insane_ , and then there was everyone else. Everyone who, at face value, appeared somewhat normal. Chunky braces, limp haircuts, tattered sneakers. Although deep down, she just knew they weren’t composed one-hundred percent of the time. She could envision it almost perfectly; neat and tidy Susie smuggling a hamster into the science room and spit-roasting it on a Bunsen burner at three in the morning. But hey, Susie was kind.

   “Susie Blanchard picked up my binder when I dropped it in the hall,” Clementine raised her head to face Kate. “That was nice.”

   “That _is_ nice of her,” Kate began to reposition herself on the chair, “I’m sure there were some other acts of kindness shown to you. Contrary to what you may believe, we have quite a few friendly faces here at Ericson’s. I believe some would have found their way to you at some point.”

   Oh, and they certainly did.

    There was the morning Violet invited her to breakfast. Given she was waiting on a never-showing Minerva the whole time, they bonded over reading – done over a tray of poorly composed breakfast.

   Even after last week’s incident, she hadn’t got anything more than a stare down from Becca. How kind of her not to retaliate?

   Then there was the safe haven, probably an act of kindness she was better off not mentioning to a staff member. Despite it ending on a sour note, Clementine enjoyed almost the entire night. _Who would’ve thought?_ Sure, she was already looking to be occupied on the lonesome Friday night, she still found solace in the fact that there were some likeable people trapped on campus like she was. Louis made sure she came along. Louis helped her up the wall. _Louis_ kept her words in his head and brought a bottle and some friends to share it with her. Now, Clementine had her doubts. That was pretty clear. She wasn’t sure of his motives, but, objectively, it was kind of him to make her feel truly welcomed into his crew of friends. Maybe she liked that. Maybe a little, maybe a lot.

   Maybe entirely.

   Then it was the music room. Louis kept her out of trouble and brought her to a place where she wasn’t going to be gawked at. Everyone focused on the music, on the talent, on everything else around her _except_ her. It was comforting knowing she could breathe a little easier in a room where all but one person, one ridiculously obnoxious, sort of funny person was doing whatever they wanted to be doing. Aside from Ruby’s helping hand, of course. Another act of kindness shown to her.

   There was a rumbling inside of Clementine that told her: Take this, take this kindness; accept it, don’t let it fall flat to never be offered again. It shouted cacophonously against that now smaller part of her which deemed she wasn’t important enough to receive it. That she could do what she needed on her own, regardless of the intervention of someone else.

   She wasn’t one to listen to others. Evidently, it’s what got her where she was in the first place. But when Kate told her to embrace the ways in which people would help her, she truly wanted to do so. She needed that positivity. She wanted to wake up, see herself in the mirror, and not feel singed by the burning gaze that reflected back at her. She wanted to see the change she was experiencing, the happiness she was just now starting to feel. The situation back at home? It was broken. Though like the school, it had its silver linings. If she could make do here given she accepted the hand she’d been dealt, then fixing what was back at home didn’t seem so impossible.

   “Yeah, they… they did,” Clementine sat up in her seat, lifting her legs off the table. “These kids, they invited me to…” _Don’t say leave school grounds_. “…hang out with them. Sometimes in their dorm, sometimes in the music room. I said yes and I—you know what? I had fun. Mostly. Most of it was fun.”

   “That’s great to hear,” Kate smiled. “What was fun about it?”

   “Oh, just…” Clementine blinked. “Getting to know each other. Feeling apart of something.”

   Kate nodded.

   “Joining a friend group can really help make the transition from home life to school life a lot easier. Friends become family here – well, if they don’t become enemies that is.”

   “Which seem real easy to make around here,” Clementine huffed, to which Kate nodded again.

   “That’s the thing, when you’re surrounded by a lot of enormous personalities, there happens to be clashing as a result. Being who you are is nothing to be ashamed about, but we can all benefit from practicing patience and empathy.”

   With a dull smile on her face, Clementine allowed a brief silence to agree with the woman.

   “Um, Kate… can I ask you something?” she peered away.

   “I’d be out of a job if you never did,” Kate responded, bringing the girl’s now wider eyes back to her.

   “That’s… wow, really?”

   “No, Clementine. What did you want to ask me?”

   She cleared her throat.

   “How do I help someone who… doesn’t want help?” she questioned, leaning ever so slightly forward in her seat.

   “Hm, well,” Kate peered up at the wall, twirling her pen between her fingers as she thought. “You need to make the person feel that accepting help isn’t what’ll damage them. If we erase the fear of allowing others in, we respond to advice and support more positively, and we begin to figure out and then solve what’s really doing harm. You encourage accepting help as something that’ll benefit them, because that’s what it’s meant to do. If a person remains stuck in the mindset that accepting help given or even reaching out is weak, or unlike them, or bothersome to others, then they only sink deeper into unhealthy thoughts and coping mechanisms.”

   Clementine’s brows furrowed as her intriguing words were absorbed.

   “That makes a lot of sense,” she lowly replied.

   “Maybe you’d like to give me some context? I can help your situation better if I know it more thoroughly.”

   “I don’t think it’s my place to say. But I like what you said, about it not damaging us if we accept it.”

   “Perhaps it can give you some insight into your own situation,” Kate smiled, her eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall. The session had been more fruitful than the last. “Looks like we’ve just about filled up the lesson.”

   Clementine sat up to turn around and gaze at the clock.

   Well, shit…

   “Seems to go faster when I actually talk,” she stood up.

   “And I’d like to thank you for that, for talking with me today, Clementine. I’m intrigued by your curiosity in the last few minutes, hopefully there’s more to talk about on that subject next week,” Kate insisted, standing up and making her way to the door.

   Clementine gave a lastingly chaste smile as the woman opened the door for her, allowing her back into the waiting room. Her eyes set upon a seemingly patient Mitch, slapping away on his thighs with earbuds lodged into his ears.

   When his gaze met Clementine’s, he gave her a well-disposed nod.

   “Blazin’ up?” she smirked, watching Mitch yank one of the white cords out of his ear.

   “What?” his features almost soured when confused.

   “Nevermind.”

* * *

   **APRIL 18, 2003**

   Nothing mattered. Not really, anyway. Not while she woke up, not while she looked over at a slumbered Clementine, not while she got dressed, brushed her teeth, splashed water on her face, left her dorm, walked through the hall, and into the boy’s dormitory. It seemed as if nothing would ever matter again. What did it matter that she opened the door to Louis’ room? What did it matter that it was almost six in the morning? What did it matter that she went to his bunk and kicked it?

   Louis awoke in shock at the thud, his eyes widening as he struggled to make of what was currently happening.

   “Get up.”

   “Hh-what?” he blurted, clutching his shirt ever so slightly. The recognition of her voice suddenly clicked.

   Violet.

   “We’re going for a run.”

   It took five minutes for Louis to awkwardly take his good friend up on her offer to get some exercise, get dressed, brush his teeth, splash water on his face, and meet Violet at the baseball field.

   It wasn’t that he took on the form of a lost puppy and jumped at her every request, no, Louis could only imagine the anguish his friend was going through: her love, her plans, her future? All gone in the blink of an eye. Her entire life had been uprooted and thrown into the garbage disposal like last night’s dinner. He was sure it was disorientating, it had to be. Violet seemed to be a shell of what she once was, no life behind her eyes. It was unsettling to see.

   Louis couldn’t bare it.

   So there he was at almost six in the morning, running through the cold fog, desperately trying to keep up with Violet’s pace after ten whole minutes of silent jogging. Well, silent on Violet’s part, that is. Because that’s what he felt obliged to do. As her friend, he couldn’t let how she felt go unrequited.

   “I- I can’t run for so long…” Louis blurted out through his laboured breaths. “We gotta take a break…”

   “No,” she curtly replied. “We’re running.”

   Oh, he knew that. He knew it from the metallic taste in his mouth.

   “Vi, as healthy of a coping method this is… I can’t partake in it for as long… as you can… without throwing up…”

   “Just be quiet and run,” she said.

   _Just be quiet and run,_ Louis mocked her voice in his mind, pushing on to try and keep a steady pace. Just as he began to pick up momentum, Violet suddenly halted in front of him, causing him to slow to a stop just behind her. Relieved, Louis finally took a moment to recollect his bearings, knowing that at one point or another, Violet was going to snap.

   See, this wasn’t the first time she awoke him so early to go for a run. It became an unspoken ritual when something weighed heavy on her mind.

   “Why the fuck is she leaving me?” she spontaneously erupted, keeping her back to him. “Why me? Why do they all leave _me?_ ”

   Regaining most his breath, he lifted his hands off his knees and looked to her.

   “Vi…” he breathed, “it’s not personal—”

   “How am I supposed to believe that when they all leave?” she bitterly asked, shaking her head. “None of this is gonna matter. You’ll leave. Brody will leave. Marlon, Mitch, Ruby—fuck, Clementine probably won’t even last the month.”

   “You know what, Vi? Unfortunately, as shitty as it is, that’s what people do: they leave,” he told her. “People aren’t around forever and they were never going to be in the first place. It’s the time you spend with them and how you make each other feel that matters. You be with them, you make memories, and then you hope to God you’ll see each other again later in life. And, well, if you’re not the hoping type then you do something about it, Vi. You do what you want, because you can’t wallow in your sadness, wishing someone will stay. Not when they can’t. Not when they have to go. Sometimes for a little while, sometimes forever. Sometimes you don’t need to wish at all because they don’t leave, maybe you do,” he poured out, all in between milliseconds of short breaths and swallows. Maybe he sounded harsh, but again, it didn’t matter. Violet could only comprehend what was thrown in her face. The harder it was, the more likely she was to take it seriously. There was no sugar-coating between the two. “This will get better and you’ll feel better. Give it enough time, believe me. We’re all here for you, Vi. We’ll do anything to see you smile again,” he earnestly told her, resting a warm hand on her shoulder. He felt her breathing hitch under his gentle grasp, prompting him to turn her around and plant both hands on her shoulders.

   “How do I fix it?” she asked quietly through her quivering lip. “How do I fix… feeling like this?”

   He slightly shrugged.

   “Distractions. Spending time doing good things. Until the pain lessens, at least. I know I feel a lot better being around the people who care about me, so be with us, okay? No more hiding away in your dorm and leaving in the middle of class. We won’t let you do this alone.”

   Violet glanced up at him, a swelling of tears in her eyes, she let out a laugh when he finally grinned down at her. The same corny, flavoursome grin he threw about when he made another crappy joke, or saw Clementine, or just simply tried to make people feel better.

   “I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” he insisted. “I’ll talk to Marlon, get him to get you a pass on morning classes today. You can get back into bed and get some more rest before saying goodbyez`.”

   Violet nodded, wiping her eyes hastily.

   “You know, you’re an asshole for knowing all the right things to say,” she sniffled, letting out another chuff of laughter.

   “And as long as I say it, you _love_ it!” he pushed her shoulder affectionately, returning his arms by his side.

   “Yup. Just like I love _all_ your jokes and your happy-go-lucky attitude every goddamn day.”

   “Hey, aside from my charmingly good looks, those are all I’ve got supporting me. You either love it or you leave it. And I don’t see ya leavin’,” he defiantly crossed his arms, leading the way around the field.

   “For someone whose best friend is into chicks, you sure do love to tell her how “handsome” you are,” she smirked, rolling her eyes up at him as she walked.

   “I—okay. Yeah. It _is_ redundant,” he scratched the back of his head. “But someone’s gotta hear it, alright?”

   Violet sighed.

   “You’re a pretty girl, Lou.”

   “The prettiest girl?” he faux-swooned.

   “No. That’d be Minerva.”

* * *

   Sleeping came a little easier when the notions of dread felt at ease. As the school was hyped up to be a mad house of lunatics, the worry of getting her throat slit while she slept was quite prominent in those first few days for Clementine. But as the days rolled on and faces became familiar to the eye, her seeming “impending doom” wasn’t all it had been cracked up to be. Of course, not everyone in her dorm room seemed like the strongest of heroes if she was ever in need anyway.

   Brody was warm yet mousy, she once flinched when Marlon raised his hand to smooth back his mullet. That was unsettling.

   Despite her rare moments of standing up for herself, Sarah had an innate timidity flowing through her veins. There was always something to worry about, and those worries turned into questions, those questions turning into overthought answers, and those answers paradoxingly worrying her. The cycle continued over and over again until she either had an asthma attack or got distracted.

   And Violet, the most hard-headed of them all, wasn’t all that ready to stand ground these days. What with feeling distraught over Minerva’s sudden departure, she was a shell of herself by all accounts.

   But hey, what was Clementine going to need numbers for? Given last week’s mishap in the hall, it looked like _she_ was the one throwing all the punches around here. Yes, pun intended. Clementine was on a self-evolving mission; she didn’t need gang wars, not when she had kindness to accept. And surely, she was ready to accept it.

   Though, not everyone was willing to give it.

   Clementine jolted awake at the slap of a hand around her mouth. It couldn’t be past six in the morning, as the room was so dimly lit by the barely arousing sun that she couldn’t make out the identities of the three figures above her. The moment she struggled against their grips, they grasped her tighter, silently hoisting her out of her bunk as they muffled her resistances. Her forehead sweltered with sweat as she desperately tried to repel their clutches, attempting to turn her head in the direction of Violet’s bunk. Clementine’s gut dropped when, as best as she could tell, she realised it was empty.

   “Mmm! Mmhmm!”

   Calling out for Brody or Sarah seemed worthless as the three of them managed to drag her out of the room almost without a lick of effort, one of the girls quietly closing the door behind them.

   The dingy lights of the hallway soon revealed the two barely familiar faces that held her, amongst a third that, quite honestly, Clementine foolishly thought she wouldn’t come to consequences with. After closing the door as inconspicuously as possible, the owner of a particularly bruised nose swung around and narrowed her eyes.

   “Hh- fhck…” Clementine mumbled against the hand across her mouth, halting her resistance for a short enough moment to truly realise the depth of what she had done the previous week.

   “In the bathroom,” Becca ordered of her goons, jutting her head to the right.

   _No, no, no…_

   Instinctively, Clementine bit down on the girl’s hand in a desperate bid to free herself.

   “Ah—motherfucker!” she withdrew her hand, but only her hand, keeping a firm grip on Clementine herself.

   “Shut your fucking mouth!” Becca harshly insisted, her voice in a sharp whisper. “I told you to say nothing, Ava!”

   “She fuckin’ bit me, what do you expect me to do? Start meditating?” Ava retorted, her brows twisting in annoyance. “It hurt!”

   “Get the fuck off me!” Clementine near shouted, hurling herself upwards in yet another attempt to free herself.

   Unbeknownst to Clementine, her decision to speak her bold demands wasn’t going to be left unpunished.

   Becca stepped forward and collided a hefty fist into the girl’s stomach, forcing out of her a considerable gasp and the wind in her lungs along with it.

   Quickly, Ava replanted her hand against Clementine’s mouth, tears of agony now welling in her eyes as she hunched over in their arms, strenuously heaving for air.

   “You don’t get to speak,” Becca lowly replied, leaning over as she glared at the girl.

   “Guess that goes for us too, huh?” the other girl quipped, jutting an eyebrow.

   “God, will you both just get her in the fucking bathroom?” Becca snapped, dropping her folded arms exasperatedly.

   “C’mon, you poor idiot,” Ava mumbled to the dishevelled mess in her arms. “Jane, kick the door open.”

   The two girls managed Clementine inside the girl’s bathroom with Becca hot on their tails. They carelessly flung her onto the grimy floor, taken slightly aback when she instantaneously caught herself and attempted to lunge at them. Jane tightened her fist and swung it upwards under her jaw, knocking her back onto the ground in a tumble.

   It was becoming apparent to Clementine just how utterly helpless she was against three people. All the martial arts movies in the world didn’t prepare her enough for this. It wasn’t everyday you were kidnapped from your bunk and forced to defend yourself at six in the morning. _That_ , she was sure of. These weren’t the hair-pulling, slap fighting types like the girls were back in Macon, these were girls who were most likely brought up having to defend themselves from something or other. Men, women, other kids. It didn’t matter what it was, it prepared them – more than Clementine was, to say the least. She had her grand fights, sure, most of which ended up being intervened. But being ganged up on? People here weren’t afraid to throw punches or slam your face into a locker if it meant satiating their revenge boners.

   Clementine shook her head of her daze, panting as she recollected herself. She could only hope either Brody or Sarah heard something behind the paper-thin walls. Or that they at least weren’t too afraid to check it out.

   “Did you really think I was going to let it slide?” Becca’s teeth venomously gritted as she made her way up to the girl, using the tip of her shoe to push her fully onto her back. It wasn’t until Becca’s continued silence had Clementine realise she was genuinely expecting an answer.

   “Honestly?” she started through her pained voice. “I kinda did?”

   Becca stared at her, nostril flared as she let out an exasperated sigh. With that, Clementine scrambled to once again stand back up, but was, once again, knocked back down when Becca’s knee slammed into the side of her face.

   Jane huffed, amused by her foolish resilience.

   “Well aren’t you Ericson’s resident genius?” Becca teased. “I don’t know what kind of dumb shit got you here, but now that you are, here’s a wakeup call.” Preparing to collide with Clementine’s ribs, Becca reeled her foot back and kicked it furiously. “Don’t!” Again, she launched her leg into the girl’s torso. “Fuck!” And again. “With me!” And again.

   Clementine writhed in agony, her gasps becoming more urgent with every blow. As she laid there, clasping her body and bracing herself for another blow, she didn’t allow herself to give into her delusions; Becca was right, this _was_ coming. She wasn’t innocent in this. Punishment for her actions was inevitable, whether it came from being grounded for sneaking out, being sent to a boarding school for, well… and even getting the ever-living crap beat out of her for impulsively punching a girl with a _colossal_ superiority complex. This wasn’t life stringing her up by her feet and throwing eggs at her for the sake of entertainment, this was the brutal work of karma in all its glory.

   As she continued to agonize on the bathroom floor, she couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that, in a way, this was the beginning of something better. Now, with revenge soon walking out the door, Clementine was able to turn a new leaf on life, to truly start working to fix herself and all her flaws. Facing her consequences and being done with it was, _somehow_ , the key to relinquishing her former self…

   But first, pain.

   “Fuck…fuck, I get it,” she croaked out, her eyes squinting.

   Becca lowered herself to the ground to kneel over her, a tug at the corner of her lips.

   “Get what?” she asked, tilting her head faux-innocently. Clementine raised her head, teeth gritted hard as she narrowed her eyes into the smug visage peering down at her.

   Or, well, maybe she wasn’t all that ready to become a fresh-faced do-gooder.

   “That you’re a cunt,” she bit back, and yet again, jolted to take a lunge at Becca. Expecting it all too easily now, the girl simply backhanded Clementine across the face.

   “Wow, did you seriously think that would wo—”

   What she wasn’t expecting, however, was a thick wad of saliva shooting straight into her right eye. Ava’s gaze widened.

   “You—!” Becca’s eyes shut instinctively, features contorting with disgust, which Clementine took as an opportunity to finally land an accomplished lunge. She had only toppled over the distracted girl for just a few moments, using them hastily to wrap two firm hands around her neck.

   Jane and Ava immediately jumped to get the blithering, red-faced mess off their friend, yanking her back-first onto the cold, hard tiles. Becca sat up in a total rage, grasping her neck as her panting intensified.

   “Fucking lunatic!” she growled, standing to her feet as Ava planted her boot on top of Clementine’s chest, securing her down.

   “Can you just beat the shit out of her and get this over with? I wanna go back to bed,” Jane complained with a fold of her arms.

   “Not a problem!” Becca replied through a snarl, taking a step forward to give a ferocious kick into the side of her thigh.

   One after another, she repeated blows into the girl’s body, then dropping to her knees and landing a few punches to her cheekbone. She jolted with each hit, even the ones that were deflected by her hands, instinctively anticipating their arrival. Ample amounts of blood spilled from Clementine’s face as cuts and bruises began to form along her cheekbone, across her nose, and on her lip. Becca’s eruption was hasty, perhaps twenty seconds, but it felt like hours of lying on the ground, partially protecting her face and partially finding no use in fighting back.

   “Alright, Bec, you got her…” Ava declared, her arms unfolding at the now unsightly display. When her words weren’t met with any sort of agreeance, she pulled Becca up from the ground by the arm. Becca stood for a moment, breathing wildly as she wiped her forehead, before sending another kick into the girl.  “Bec—”

   “Jesus, that’s enough…!” Jane pushed her back against the wall, her hand planted across her chest to deter her. Taking unkindly to it, Becca shoved her back, her rage-filled gaze idling on her.

   “What the fuck are you doing?” Ava questioned Becca outrageously, immediately stepping between the two.

   “Don’t you ever put your hands on me!” Becca screeched, taken over by her blinding resentment.

   “I said beat the crap out of her, not try to kill her! The fuck’s wrong with you?” Jane retorted, pushing herself against Ava to get to Becca.

   “Enough!” Ava insisted, separating them further.

   “We didn’t have to help you, you know?” Jane continued. “Don’t forget, we’re doing _you_ a favor!”

   “Favor my ass, you owe me!” Becca corrected through her panting.

   “So you found us another smoking spot, big fucking deal! That doesn’t mean our lives are in debt to you, you complete _maniac!_ ”

   “Shh! Shh, shut the fuck up—” Ava abruptly whispered, her wide eyes staring at the bathroom door.

   Clementine’s chokes and coughs weren’t the only sounds they were hearing between their silence. The girls glanced at each other, eyes wide and mouths agape.

* * *

   “So, is this your anxiety-adrenaline makin’ you run or are you trying to outrun me to your dorm in a futile attempt to get rid of me?” Louis huffed, jogging to keep up with Violet’s doom and gloom throughout the hallway.

   “I’m just walking,” she dourly replied, her features souring when she picked up on the notions of arguing.

   “No, that’s speed-walking,” he corrected as he approached beside her. “Which is a lot faster than—”

   “One… second…” Violet halted sharply, holding up a stern finger to Louis as her exasperated features peered up at him. “All I ask, is for one second of you… being normal. Okay?” she asked firmly, her voice low and succinct.

   Louis furrowed his brows, silently obliging with her request. In doing so, it allowed Violet to, a) not hear Louis’ words needlessly filling the air, and b) allow whatever arguing she was hearing to be heard even clearer. Outrage suddenly and irrationally filled her. She always had a short fuse, but given the circumstances of her situation, it was easy to get on her nerves in her nowadays of depression.

   “This fucking school…” she muttered under her breath in exasperation, trudging past the door of her room and closer to the voices. “Who the hell is yelling so early in the goddamn morning?”

   “Nope, no!” Louis zipped in front of her, sending her into a skittish stop. “You are _not_ Nancy Drew-ing this morning up. Whatever’s going on in there isn’t your concern, not with all the thinking and crying and… sadness you’ve got going on. Okay?”

   With a solemn expression, Violet sighed.

   “Yeah… yeah, okay,” she tiresomely agreed.

   “Look, what you need right now is some rest. You should get back to bed. And while you do, I’m more than happy to sneak into the staff room and get you some hot cocoa,” he grinned down at her. “Y’know, ‘cause I’m your best friend. Your incredibly handsome, shining light of a best friend.”

   Violet deadpanned at him, allowing a moment of silence as opportunity for him to accept what a stupidly lame thing that was for him to say. Though, hot cocoa did sound pretty nice.

   It was in that short moment of silence that the arguing suddenly ceased, and what followed was the odd sounds of gasping and coughing. Not the type that perhaps came with the flu, but… eager, and desperate, and painful. It was worrisome. Worrisome enough to kill the smile of Louis, sending his features into a downward slope of concern.

   “But I can’t ignore that,” she maintained with a shake of her head, keeping her gaze on Louis as she walked toward the bathroom door. Unwilling to protest this time, he simply followed her in their joint curiosity.

   Pushing the door open, the very first thing she laid eyes on was the quivering mess of Clementine, blood smeared on her face and huddled on the ground. The three girls standing beside her only catching her attention when they began to approach.

   “What the fuck…” Violet muttered. A frozen Louis came up behind her, the color abruptly draining from his face.

   Smirking, Becca allowed her cronies to push past and leave while she sauntered up to violet.

   “Morning, Brandt,” she spoke buoyantly through her panting. “Should probably use the other bathroom, this one’s kinda… dirty,” she huffed before knocking her shoulder as she left.

   Louis didn’t think twice as he rushed into the girl’s bathroom to get to Clementine, only becoming cautious and gentle as he got on the ground beside her..

   “What the fuck did you do?” Violet spun ferociously to the girls in the hallway, her molten glare searing into their backs. “You think you’re gonna get away with this? You’re fucking psychotic!” her voice bellowed, but the girls remained unphased as they continued down the hall and out of sight. Finding it useless to use her words, Violet finally entered the bathroom in a haste to get to the now unmoving girl.

   Louis continued to glance down at her almost as if he were paralyzed. She remained motionless on the ground, breathing lowly with an anguished expression on her face. Louis’ eyes almost pleadingly shifted to Violet.

   “F-fuck, she’s…”

   “Bleeding… not dead…” Clementine spoke, causing the pair to shoot their gazes back down at her. She took in a sharp inhale before painfully attempting to sit up, Louis’ hands immediately assisting her.

   “What the hell happened here?!” he probed her in a panic, moving a bloody lock of hair away from her face. He was subconsciously expecting to be met with immediate repulsion on her part, but her disorientation became apparent when she said:

   “I think…I got reservoir dogged?” she then glanced between the two, noticing their confusion. She blinked. “You know… like beat up?” she continued, however their expressions of sympathy told her she wasn’t getting through to them – or, rather, she sounded completely out of her mind. “Maybe I’m not saying it right.”

   “Fuck, that’s a lot of blood,” Violet noted with concern, correlating the loss of it with the girl’s star-gazed demeanour.

   “No, I’m fine—” she began to protest.

   “You are _not_ fine!” Louis firmly denied, her eyes narrowing at him. “How could you say you’re fine?”

   “Who died and made you my dad?” she retorted, her eyes soon widening with the recollection of who exactly _did_ die. “I take that back,” she muttered, staring at the toilet stalls for a moment. “Personal attack on myself.”

   Louis stared at her in bewilderment.

   “R- Ruby will help us – help her,” Violet suddenly insisted, much to Louis’ refusal.

   “Not to diss Ruby’s current protégé status, but I think we need an _actual_ medical professional,” he flat out denied, staring up at her outrageously.

   “No!” Violet resisted.

   “No,” Clementine mumbled.

   “I’m sorry— _no?!_ ” his voice raised.

   “You know that’s not how we do this,” she adamantly explained. “If we take her to first aid for something like this, what do you think they’re gonna do? They’re going to look into this and Clem’s gonna get in trouble for what happened last week—”

   “Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?!” Louis erupted, his brows furrowing intensely. “There is blood, _everywhere!_ She’s barely even conscious! Fuck getting in trouble, she needs help _now!_ ”

   “Louis we are _not_ taking her there!” she argued.

   Clementine let out a long breath, shutting her eyes for a moment.

   “I’m not… out of it,” she defended, using the back of her wrist to swipe away the blood on her cheek. “I’m tired. They pulled me out of bed. It’s… early in the morning,” she justified, her hands then planting on the ground. Clementine lifted herself up, much to the surprise of her friends, and teetered over to one of the sinks. “Also crashing from that adrenaline kick.”

   “How are you even walking right now?” Louis spoke in awe.

   “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice raising as she harshly turned the knob for the tap. “Now leave me alone.”

   “What?” he rose back up to his feet.

   Sighing, she cupped her hands and splashed the ice-cold water she collected onto her face, wincing at the pain.

   Louis immediately looked over to Violet, his expression growing solemn as he intrinsically decided where he stood on this. He wasn’t going to leave her like that, not in a bloodied, worn out state. Not in pain. Not a chance in hell.

   Recognising this, Violet let out a quiet exhale. They knew each other like the back of their hands. She knew how Louis felt, not with his words, but with his actions. The way he acted around Clementine showed just how much he cared. It was boggling how instant his connection to her came about, it often confused her as to why he was so adamant about being around her and making sure she was included. Maybe there was more to the two Violet wasn’t fully acknowledging, but knowing how affected Louis was by this, she had to help him help her. Not to say she didn’t want to help Clementine herself, the girl was definitely the type of team player she liked to have around, all she knew was that Louis was passionate about her one way or another, and she wasn’t going to let him down.

   “No, no we’re not leaving you,” Violet insisted. “You’re coming with us—”

   “Look, just—” Clementine snapped, spinning around suddenly. She let out a withheld breath through her forced smile, incidentally showing the blood between her teeth. “I don’t want your help. You’re cool and everything, you’re being nice or you’re on some moral high ground bullshit, I get it. But I don’t want any of it. I’m fine,” she turned back to the mirror.

   “Clem,” her tone hardened. “Would you stop being such a hardass? We’re trying to help you.”

   “I know,” she curtly responded, examining her face in the mirror. “I don’t want it.”

   A silence ensued as Clementine shut her eyes, forcing herself to regulate her breathing. But she couldn’t make herself do anything in that moment, whether that was accepting their help to be a better person or simply getting herself back under control. This was defence mode. All she had achieved in the last week and a half was sucking into a void-like vortex and spewing out brood, and hate, and anti-socialisation. It wasn’t letting anyone back in, not right now.

   “Fuck that,” Louis spoke up, prompting Clementine to open her eyes. Violet peered up at him, visibly taken aback. “That’s not fair. You don’t get to come here and be a friend to us only for you to throw it out the window,” he declared, watching her turn to him like a deer in headlights. “Getting your ass kicked sucks, I know _all_ about that. But now is when you need us the most. I don’t care how long we’ve known each other, even if it was only for five minutes! We’re your friends! We are _here_ for you, okay?” he then tensed up. “ _I’m_ here for you! Fuck, just—look at your face! Do you know how shitty it makes me feel seeing you like tha—!” he suddenly halted, almost as if he caught himself revealing such a dark secret. His fists balled, eyes shutting as he lowered his head to regain his composure.

   Violet quietly huffed. What boggled her before, suddenly didn’t. He didn’t just care about her or want to be a good friend, he was _head over heels_ for her.

   _Holy shit…_

“Lou…” Violet mumbled, her cognitive gears clicking to the sound realisation.

For the first time since they became friends, Louis had a _crush_. Not a petty crush, a real one. One he didn’t view as something that’ll lead him nowhere. One he probably wanted to take to the ends of the earth and triumph, being Louis and all.

   The boy side-eyed his friend, her awe-struck expression innately pressuring him to pull himself together. He straightened up, clearing his throat as he shifted his gaze to the ground.

   Clementine could only stare at him, there weren’t any words to describe the feeling she had pooling in her gut. A contrasting concoction of appreciation, guilt, disgust, vulnerability and a million other emotions rendered her stone cold in motion. When faced with forcible and blistering emotional warmth, it was almost as if she faltered to it. She didn’t know how to feel or what to do, standing there was the only option.

   “You ran to my aid when I burned my hand,” Louis solemnly started again. “I was being stupid and you did it so fast and so quick that I know for a fact you’re a lot better than you think you are. And I know you’d do it again for me ‘cause I really do believe you’re not as mean or nasty as you are at first. And yeah, I know I helped you with your hand last week, but… how about we make it a part two or something. Let me continue to owe you this. Please. Let me get you some help.”

   Clementine blinked, almost as if she hadn’t realised how shell-shocked she appeared to be. Yet when she finally did, her features firmed up. Bloodied, beaten, and at rock bottom, what did she have to lose?

   “We go to Ruby and only Ruby.”

* * *

   “Now this is exactly what I didn’t want to see,” Ruby admitted, displeasure knitting her brows into contortion.

   The music room was chilly, cold biting at the skin of the kids as they watched Ruby work her magic on a now cleaner looking Clementine. Though parts of her face were swelling. Lucky for Becca, when Violet went to Ruby’s dorm to get her for the emergency, she wasn’t anywhere in sight. When Violet lost something, she tended to cling onto another to drive her. Minerva is what drove her, but for the time being, to get that off her mind, the caustic itch to get Becca back for what happened was starting to kindle in the pit of her stomach. Sure, Clementine started this mess. But like she explained to her during lunch the following day, it was a heat of the moment mistake. Regret was etched all over the girl’s face, even when she admitted that Becca’s abrasive words was simply a case of ‘pushing the wrong button on the wrong day.’ In simpler terms, the girl was being an asshole. Violet understood how hard it was to resist impulsivity when faced with instigation.

    Besides, it wasn’t as if anyone was on Becca’s side.

   “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be child abducted and Mike Tyson’ed either,” Clementine admitted as she sat on the piano stool, neck crooked back and facing up towards a standing Ruby.

   “You really got a thing for references, don’t you?” Louis cocked an eyebrow.

   “That’s the thing, darlin’,” Ruby dropped the hand that patted her wounds with disinfectant. “People here do things you ain’t ever gonna expect.” Ruby then grabbed her by the chin, pulling her face towards her own. “ _Keep_ , your _head_ , _down_. Don’t go stirrin’ up more fights,” she insisted, releasing her grip and continuing to pat her wounds with gauze. “All this blood ain’t a pretty sight on you,” she mumbled.

   Clementine shrugged.

   “I thought I looked nice in red,” she confessed, earning a slight smile from a fixated Louis as he chewed on the nail of his thumb.

   “Lou,” Violet softly called for his attention from behind, gesturing her head towards the other end of the room once he turned. He followed her over to the far corner, a part of the room that was seemingly even colder than the rest, and now out of ear shot for the others.

   “I know what you’re gonna say,” he started. “Suggesting the nurse’s office was stupid. Sure. And it’s not that I don’t have faith in Ruby, it’s just that—”

   “It’s that you’re in love with her,” Violet interrupted, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

   Louis froze, his cheeks growing hot.

   “W- With Ruby?” he sputtered.

   “With _Clem_ , you idiot,” she folded her arms, earning his silence as he struggled to find the words to defend himself without _incriminating_ himself. “See? Written all over your face,” she smugly continued.

   “No. You’re wrong, okay? She’s just a friend,” he defended. “She helped me and now I’m helping her.”

   “Oh, you’re helping her, alright. Helping her become used to all your blabbering and theatrics to the point that her brain is so numb, she can’t consciously reject you.”

   Louis deadpanned, mirroring her crossed arms.

   “Great. You’ve intercepted my mischievous plan. How ever will I live,” he spoke monotoned, earning Violet’s eyeroll.

   “Not gonna lie, I thought you were just being weird about making another friend. But come on, Lou, don’t lie to yourself. Look at how you just… attract to her,” she justified, staring at her as he then did. “You gravitate towards her  and honestly… I don’t think she hates it as much as she pretends to.”

   “Lies.”

   “Oh, please. You _looove_ her. You invite her to everything we do. You look around the cafeteria to see when she’ll come in. Not to mention you’re ten times more annoying when she’s around. It’s… actually kinda gross—”

   “I’m sorry, weren’t you just depressed a minute ago?” he snapped, returning his gaze to her as he unfolded his arms.

   “Watching you flounder is my therapy. It keeps me distracted from how shitty I feel on the inside,” she smirked, earning his deadpanned stare. “And… you know, she’s alright in the face department. Uh… aside from all the cuts and bruises right now,” she corrected, soon huffing. “Fucking Becca.”

   For a moment, Louis was reeled out of his intense embarrassment of being called out when he was reminded by what happened just twenty minutes ago.

   “All that blood… god,” he shook his head, eyes beginning to clench. “I’ve never seen that much before, you know? I don’t know what came over me, but what I was feeling… I didn’t like it. I didn’t think of Becca, I didn’t think of revenge. I needed to know she was okay. I mean, I know she is now, but for a second there… it sounds dumb but I thought she was dead or something. It fucked with me real bad, Vi.”

   “I know,” she tilted her head sympathetically. “Seeing someone you care about in such a bad way is gonna fire off some shitty thoughts in your head. But if you won’t listen to me, at least listen to yourself. You _like_ her, Louis. Stop being a pussy and _do_ something about it,” she irrefutably insisted, nudging him in the shoulder before walking back to the piano. Though for a moment, she halted, peering back at him. “And… if it makes you feel any better, small cuts just so happen to bleed a lot. Makes it look a lot worse than it really is. She’s gonna be fine,” she nodded, receiving a nod of acceptance back from him.

   Violet gestured her head back at Ruby and patient zero, signalling for Louis to join her. Taking her up on that offer, he made his way back to them in a sobered state.

   “So, how’re you plannin’ on hiding all this mess from the teachers?” Ruby questioned, pasting on small patch band-aid to Clementine’s nose. “Judgin’ by the cuts, it looks like she only got a few proper licks in. You might’ve hid yer face well, but your teachers are gonna notice what happened to you.”

   “Well, they can’t beat it out of me, can they?” Clementine sarcastically replied, being the only one to chuckle after it.

   “Little too soon, don’t you think?” Violet curled her top lip, scratching the back of her head.

   “You’re right. Laughing makes my ribs hurt,” Clementine admitted, wincing.

   “The uh… the Headmaster doesn’t get in until eight,” Louis told her. “If you wanna call home, I can take you,” he offered, his features softening.

   Clementine looked to him, allowing Ruby to tend to cut on her cheekbone. She gently nodded, brows furrowing.

   “I think that’s a good idea.”

* * *

   Marlon jogged down the main staircase of the administration building, holding the packet of exam revision pamphlets in his hand. Being Head of Sophomores sure did have its perks: leaving class whenever he wanted, being able to walk around campus without anyone questioning him, and even running small errands for the Headmaster. That included leaving school grounds – with approval of course – to get the new issue of Women’s Weekly for him at the local convenience store.

   Marlon _really_ didn’t want to question what he did with it.

   Besides, it gave him the chance to apply for after school jobs, a program the Headmaster was trialling to “help students gain work ethic.” No call backs as of yet, given his status as a student at a correctional school, but Marlon was hopeful. He had to be.

   It was third hour, the usual time he got out of class to fulfil his “Head Sophomore duties.” Exiting the building, Marlon walked into the courtyard with a stoic glance at what he saw. There they were, the twins, putting their belongings in the trunk of their father’s station wagon. Slowly sauntering down the stairs with an ever so slightly smug appearance, he planted his hands on his hips.

   “I hate to see you go,” he spoke up, forcing a smile at the pair. Sophie hoisted her last suitcase into the trunk and walked around the car.

   “Thanks again for everything, Marlon,” she returned the sweet smile, opening the door to the backseats and getting inside.

   Minerva glanced up at him once she heard the door shut.

   “Well, I hate to leave so early, but…” she carelessly shrugged, “life’s out there. A better one than what’s in here,” she told him, lifting another one of her bags into the trunk. “Soph’s real grateful about our… ‘early release’,” she squinted her eyes at him, maintaining an anticipating grin. “Ever plan on getting out? Ericson’s always raving about how reformed you are – I figured you’re just about ready to head out yourself.”

   Marlon gazed out into the courtyard, shaking his head with a tug of his lips.

   “Nah. I got friends here,” he folded his arms. “People that need me. I’m not one to leave them behind.”

   Minerva shook her head, huffing before she shut the trunk of the car.

   “Don’t play that bullshit with me, Marlon,” she spoke lowly. “Yeah, I agreed to leaving, but it’s not like it was entirely my idea. You had your grubby little hand in this, don’t forget that.”

   “You know, you haven’t even said goodbye. You’re just leaving,” he dropped his arms, coming down the last remaining steps. “Leaving like it was all nothing and no one even mattered. How do you think your girlfriend feels, huh? Especially after you avoided her the whole time?” he taunted.

   Minerva gave a strained smile, her tongue tracing her back molars as she looked away from him. Her hands lifted in faux defence.

   “Have a good life, Marlon,” she replied, walking around the side of the car. As her hand gripped the handle, she took a second to look back at him. “Oh, and some sound advice?”

   His brow quirked.

   “Enlighten me,” he folded his arms.

   “Stop hitting Brody. People don’t fuck with a two-faced poster boy and I hear abuse victims take matters into their own hands these days,” she spoke bitterly, quickly returning to her smile. She opened the door, stepping into it halfway with a conceited smirk. “See ya later… mullet boy,” she winked, closing the door as the car pulled away.

   Sliding his free hand along his face, Marlon exhaled.

   _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again friends! over the last couple of days i’ve hit a writing frenzy so i managed to triumph some writer’s block and get this chapter out to you (and flesh out later chapters) a lot sooner than i predicted (although it’s still been 2 months and that i’m sorry for, like always). i’ve been in a real mental slump this year and trying to get back to normal, so what better way than to write? writing becca’s revenge was a real spur of the moment thing for me. i was originally going to have her not do anything about it and have her character be all bark and no bite, but i got to thinking and i believe becca’s actions truly show clementine just what type of place she’s really in. she’s fortunate to have met louis and violet and ruby, being the compassionate people they are, but they’re not the only type of people there. not everyone wants to better themselves. there’s more people just like becca, and big cool kid clem is gonna have to come to terms with losing what she’s normally good at (which is kickin’ some butt back in macon). thank you all for reading this chapter! i’d really appreciate your thoughts about the intensity of it and whether you’d like me to consider anything. i’m all for constructive criticism! with the holidays approaching and having more free time, i hope i can get some more chapters out for you guys without such a long wait. 
> 
> okie doke happy reading!


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